


Secrets

by Sabishiioni



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Assassin's Creed Aramis, Blood, Burning buildings, M/M, Minor Violence, Noble Suicide, Papa Treville, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, TW: Starvation, Tears, Vampire Porthos, Werewolf d'Artagnan, Winged Athos, Wizard Treville, mentions of forced prostitition, tw: beatings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 26,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sabishiioni/pseuds/Sabishiioni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has their secrets. Some are just a little more...extreme. (Warnings will be updated with each chapter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigmund](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: This is a crackfic. I took a bunch of recurring themes I was seeing and smashed it all into one fic. Then I posted the rough drafts on PI where a lovely reader encouraged me to post here. I'm not holding out much hope but here it is. I had fun writing it so I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

_This isn’t him! This isn’t the one!_

Part of him was screaming at him, but it was the part of him that d’Artagnan usually ignored in this form. He continued to press his attack until three points were pressed to his neck. He barely managed to resist the urge to growl, especially when Constance- the only human who knew what he was- saved him yet again. He didn’t bother trying to smother the huff of laughter as she chewed out the three musketeers, though.

Even as his human body calmed and he realized that his wolf mind had been telling the truth, Red Guards came to take Athos, the man who smelled like the birds of prey that sometimes hunted with his pack. The man he thought killed his father. He knew the truth now. Athos was innocent.

So it wasn’t a surprise when later that day, Aramis burst into the room to interrogate him. He told him all he could but balked at going with him and Porthos, who waited outside. He knew d’Artagnan wouldn’t be strong enough to help. But, perhaps they could use the help of a wolf instead.  
***

“Aramis…he’s still with us.”

The marksman glanced first at his brother before turning his head to watch the wolf keep pace with their horses. It was grey and white with deep brown eyes and a black nose. It joined them shortly after they had examined the body of the man d‘Artagnan had shot at the inn. Not once had it made a move against them, seemingly intent on where they were going instead. 

“It seems as if he’s by himself so I don’t think we need to worry.”

Porthos snorted, but still kept a wary eye out for other wolves. He may have yanked the reins a little harder than necessary when he heard the howl, causing Aramis to chuckle softly. Bringing their horses to a halt, they realized the same thing at the same time. 

“Perfect spot for an ambush…”

The pair dismounted and climbed the small embankment. At the top, they saw the wolf chasing the carrion birds away from the bodies of their fellow musketeers. They approached slowly, but the beast only sat down a fair distance away to watch them. Even so, they stayed just long enough to confirm the identities of the dead.

“They were killed and stripped of their uniforms like animals!” Porthos raged, not noticing the wolf approaching them. 

“Um, Porthos? Dear heart? You may want to lower your voice…”

Looking down, the man suddenly froze as the large creature lightly scratched at his boot. Scowling, he slowly moved his foot. A black nose nudged aside some dead leaves before the wolf sat back and waited, head tilted in expectation. Porthos blinked in surprise as he reached down to pick up a coin.

“Huh. Pup found a Spanish doubloon- second one I’ve seen this week.”

“Who had the first?”

“A Red Guard I played cards with…” Porthos broke into a smile. “I think we need to go have a chat with him.”  
***

Deep brown wolf eyes took in the sight of the two musketeers questioning the scrawny Red Guard. He remembered the stories his parents told of other packs and once thought them cruel. They really had nothing on these two enraged men. After only a few minutes, Dijon had confessed and blamed his captain for the deaths of the musketeers. 

“Tell us, did Gaudet also kill that boy’s father the night before last?”

Ears perking at the question Aramis asked, rage flooded his body as the man nodded, trying to explain. Only Porthos’ quick reflexes stopped him from tearing the man’s throat out. The man struggled to keep the snarling creature away from the bound man.

“Calm down pup! We need him alive ta save Athos!” An eyebrow raised as the wolf grudgingly backed down at the words. “I swear he understands us.”

Aramis smiled as he untied the guard from the post. “Then he should have a name, since he’s decided to join us.”

“Ya got something figured out already, don’t ya?”

“Yes.” Aramis tied Dijon’s hands behind his back. “He apparently wants vengeance. I say we name him ‘Fury’.”

Porthos laughed. “Well, he also seems to have a lot of pent up anger…”

The newly christened Fury tilted his head. Yes, it was a good name.  
***

The wolf ducked his head, sitting back on his haunches, waiting to be punished. Reprimanding the animal was the last thing on Aramis’ mind. Fury had just saved him from being stabbed in the back by the treacherous captain of the Red Guard but in doing so, killed him. 

He knelt in front of Fury, holding his hand out to the wolf. “It’s alright, I’m not angry with you. I’m grateful…”

Both of them turned to look at Porthos when he whistled to get their attention. The fighter held up a stolen pauldron with a sad smile, which Aramis returned. Aramis caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head in time to see Fury lope away to a nearby hill. The wolf paused to let out a lonely sounding howl that echoed hauntingly into the night. Then he vanished into the darkness.  
***

Athos stared at the men behind the muskets. Even though they were there to end his life, he couldn’t bring himself to hate them. In all honesty, he was grateful to them. At least now he would be done with all the pain and guilt that had plagued him for the last five years. He closed his eyes, waiting for the sounds that would end it all. What he heard wasn’t exactly what he expected.

His eyes snapped open when he heard the low grow, finding a grey and white wolf bristling in front of him. It bared his teeth at the guards, making it clear he wasn’t going to back down. The man on the end of the line fired a shot but the creature moved so the ball merely grazed his shoulder instead of killing him. Suddenly, the man was without a weapon as powerful jaws snatched it from his hand and tossed it to the side, nearly hitting the priest.

“Ah, I see you’ve met our new friend!”

Athos tore his gaze from the still snarling animal to focus on Aramis, coming down the stairs into the yard. A grinning Porthos followed him. The slender man held up a rolled up parchment. 

“Your release, signed by the King himself.”

“Now get these chains off him!” Porthos demanded. 

“I thought I had finally gotten rid of the two of you,” Athos commented as he was released from the wall. 

“No. In fact, I think you may have gotten another one.” Aramis grinned, pointing at the wolf, which currently resembled more of a tame pet, with his tail wagging and tongue lolling.

“Can you touch him?” Athos asked, pausing before the stairs. “He was grazed by a musket ball…”

Aramis scowled, watching as Fury limped towards them to lick Athos’ hand. When the medic knelt to check the wound, the wolf shied away and once again fled, racing up the stairs. Aramis straightened with a sigh.

“He does that. I’m sure we’ll see him again.”

“And I’m sure this will be an interesting story…” Athos commented dryly as he followed the wolf’s path to freedom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble:

“So why are we headin’ there again?”

Aramis sighed as he answered Porthos’ question. “Because we have not seen d’Artagnan in the last three days. Not since we got him back from Vadim.”

“So? Maybe the boy jus' needs some time ta himself.”

“Or maybe Athos frightened him away. His words were rather harsh for what was an overall successful mission.”

Porthos shrugged as he knocked on the door of the Bonniceux home. Constance answered the door with a confused but polite smiled. Both musketeers greeted her with a gallant tip of their hats.

“Good day, Madam. We were hoping to see your boarder. Is d’Artagnan in?”

Constance’s expression became cloudy with puzzlement. “He’s not here. Hasn’t been since the night you three brought him back bloodied and bruised. My husband refused to let him stay calling him a coward and a liar. I barely managed to get him bandaged before Bonniceux kicked him out.”

Aramis and Porthos shared a look before Porthos asked, “Did he mention where he was goin’?”

The woman shook her head, red curls bouncing. “He said he would be fine, paid his rent and left. I haven’t seen him since.”

“We apologize for disturbing you. Thank you for your time.”

They both bowed again before taking their leave. They walked in silence for a while before Aramis pulled his companion into a tavern. They found a table in a darkened corner and ordered a bottle of wine.

“Athos scared him away.”

“It might ‘ave been for the best…” Porthos shrugged, taking a sip of the wine and scrunching up his face at the taste.

“No.” Aramis refused to believe that. “He tried so hard to help with Vadim. It wasn’t his fault that we were all played by that monster. I know he was injured but after the way Athos vented his anger on the boy, there was no time for me to check before he bolted, refusing help from us."

“At least Constance was able ta help him.” Porthos inclined his head in acknowledgement. “He coulda been a great musketeer.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We talk to Athos.”

“Talk to me about what?”

The two men looked up as their third joined them, helping himself to a glass of wine. They looked at each other, silently holding a conversation. Athos merely sat down and waited for them to answer him.

“D’Artagnan has disappeared.”

Athos shrugged. “Perhaps he has returned home.”

Aramis shook his head. “No…He told Constance that he has no home to return to.”

“Then he has found another place. Why are you so concerned?”

The chevalier turned away, scowling. “I…I don’t know. I just…I felt like there was a connection between us…”

“Well, it’s obvious he didn’t feel the same way,” Porthos spoke up with a shrug. “He knows the way ta the garrison.”

Aramis sighed. “I suppose. Fine. If he does not wish to be found, I will not look for him.”  
***

Despite his words, Aramis continued to search for d’Artagnan. Something drove him to look for the boy, even though he had no idea what it was. While he feared it was something from his past, the past that even Porthos knew nothing about, something even deeper told him that it was important he find d’Artagnan.

He sighed, wishing Fury had shown up that morning, like he had off and on for the past couple of weeks. Since the day he protected Athos from the firing squad. In the wake of that event, the wolf had become an unofficial musketeer. Porthos even had a leather collar made for him with a silver fleur-de-lis attached to it. When Treville carefully buckled it around the wolf’s neck, Fury had done nothing but sit there as still as a statue. It had been like he knew what honor was being bestowed on him.

What Aramis found most amusing was that Fury only helped the Three Inseparables. He would play and rough house with the other musketeers, but when Athos said they had a mission, the wolf would appear by his side. Even the King and Queen were enchanted by him, to the point where King Louis tapped the furred shoulders with a blade, making the commission official. Aramis had barely held back a chuckle when Fury surprised everyone by literally bowing before the monarchs. 

Aramis’ thoughts were interrupted by a falcon’s scream. It was perched in a tree near a nondescript tavern. He scowled as his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the night before. Sighing, he went inside and found a table against a wall, sitting down to order a meal and wine.

He was just getting comfortable when the object of his search appeared at the bar. He watched as the boy gratefully took a half bowl of watered down stew to a small table and wolfed it down. The expression on d’Artagnan’s youthful face nearly broke his heart. It was obvious the stew was not enough to fill his belly. Still, the boy stood and returned the bowl to the kitchen before slipping out the back.

When the barmaid appeared at his table with his food, Aramis requested it be packed for traveling as he remembered an errand. The woman sighed but agreed when the man passed her a few extra coins. She returned quickly with a bundle of food and a bottle of wine. Aramis thanked her and kissed the back of her hand before leaving.

Making his way around to the back of the tavern, Aramis found a stable for boarding horses. Making his way to the doors, he heard the familiar voice he had been longing to hear for so long calming a horse. Silently, he slipped inside.

“Shh…it’s alright, Tempest. M. DeLucha didn’t mean to frighten you. He was just angry at me. But don’t worry; I got you your full ration. See?”

Aramis watched as d’Artagnan moved the horse’s head over to the feed bag. With a swish of her tale, the mare started to eat. The boy stood by her, gently stroking her neck.

“Perhaps while she eats, you would care to share a meal with me?”

D’Artagnan started, his head whipping around in surprise. “Aramis! What are you doing here?”

“I just happened upon this place while needing a bite to eat and finally found you.” Aramis smiled and held up the bundle and bottle. “Care to eat with me?”

The longing in those brown, almond shaped eye caused his breath to hitch, even as the boy shook his head. “I can’t. I haven’t earned it.”

Aramis scowled. “We’re friends. You don’t need to earn it.”

“’Friends’?”A faded smile appeared on the other’s lips. “Alright…”

“Good. Shall we go to your room to eat?”

D’Artagnan blushed. “Um…I don’t really have a room.”

Aramis fought to keep his expression neutral. “So, where do you sleep?”

The boy pointed up. “M. LeDucha lets me stay in the hayloft as part of my pay.”

“He pays you?”

D’Artagnan lowered his head in embarrassment. “A meal a day, boarding for Tempest and the hayloft. Sometimes they let me do odd jobs in the kitchen for some coin.” He brightened and lifted his head. “I have an apple we could share! The nice lady in the market let me have it after I helped her carry some of her produce to her stand.”

With his heart somewhere in his stomach, Aramis followed the boy up a ladder to the loft. Several bales of hay had been stacked to make a wall, creating a very small room near the downslope of the roof. Both men had to kneel to enter. Leaning against the hay were the sword and pistol d’Artagnan had when he came into the garrison demanding a duel. Looking around, Aramis noticed there was little else. A small satchel and a neatly folded change of clothes which lay in the corner near the weapons while a small pile of loose straw seemed to form a bed of sorts.

“Do you not have a pillow or blanket for sleeping?”

Shaking his head, the boy dug the apple out from under the straw. “No, but it’s okay. The hay keeps me warm enough.”

“The snows will be coming soon…” Aramis commented as he laid out the bread, meat and cheese on the cloth they had been wrapped in.

D’Artagnan cut the apple in half with the small dagger he took from his belt and gave the larger half to Aramis. “I’ll be fine. I almost have enough to afford a saddle blanket for Tempest and I’m sure she won’t mind sharing.”

Making sure his companion had more of the meat and cheese, the musketeer silently promised himself that the boy would not go without. Not if he could help it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Short chapter this time, but I promise I make up for it in later chapters! (This is what is known as a filler chapter.)

Three days flew by before Aramis could visit his younger friend again. This time, he would be going prepared with a gift: a warm quilt and a feather pillow. As he predicted, the weather had taken a turn for the worst with a storm brewing that promised a biting cold wind to accompany the coming snow. A small saddle blanket would not keep the boy warm, especially since d’Artagnan had barely any body fat on him.

As he walked into the stables to saddle his horse, he found two others had already beaten him there, getting their own horses ready to ride. Brown eyes blinked as he realized that his brothers were almost done and were even now, grinning at him. Aramis scowled, annoyed.

“Do we have some mission that I was not informed about?”

“Maybe.” Porthos grinned even wider. “Seems there’s a pup that needs some supplies.”

Aramis tilted his head, seeing the satchel of food attached to Guerre’s saddle. A glance at Athos’ horse, Chevalier, showed a similar bag that was lumpy not with food but with clothes. An eyebrow arched in slight confusion.

“After you told us of the boy’s living condition, how could we not feel compelled to help him?” Athos asked, with an amused smile. “We took the liberty of saddling up Fidget for you.”

Aramis went to his horse, smiling as the mare greeted him with a nudge to his pockets. Shaking his head in humor, he took the carrot from his pocket. She happily crunched it as he checked her tack finding it to be perfectly in order.

“Thank you…for everything.”

Porthos shrugged. “The kid’s helped us. ‘Bout time we helped him.”

Athos nodded in agreement as the three of them led their mounts into the courtyard. “As you have pointed out, it most likely my fault that he is living like that. If he fears working for us because he fears me, then this is at least something I can do for him.”

Aramis pulled himself into the saddle. “I know he will appreciate it.”

The Musketeers headed out with Aramis in the lead, eager to see the young man who had somehow wiggled his way into their hearts.  
***

“You stupid boy!”

Athos heard the sharp sound of leather striking flesh as he dismounted and scowled. He noticed his brothers carried the same expression as they turned towards the sound. Anger colored all three faces as the sound was heard again followed by a familiar voice crying out in pain. Moving as one, the musketeers ran to the stables.

What they found made their blood boil. D’Artagnan lay on the ground, his arms trying to protect his head from the belt of the man standing over him. It was obvious that the man, DeLucha, was drunk, his movements sloppy and his face red with more than rage.

Athos stopped the hand holding the belt with the flat of his rapier before it could be brought down again. “Touch the boy again, and I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“Why are musketeers interested in this whelp?” DeLucha asked, his eyes unfocused.

“He is our friend and is now under our protection.” Athos looked at his friends. “Aramis- take d’Artagnan and gather his things. He will not be staying here. Porthos- get his horse and tack.”

“You can’t take ‘im!” DeLucha slurred, swaying dangerously. “He owes me money!”

“For what?” Aramis asks, incredulously. 

“He spilled feed but still fed that fleabag of his!”

“I told you I wouldn’t eat today to make up for it!” d’Artagnan cried from where Aramis was helping him to his feet.

Porthos growled. “An’ when was tha las’ time ya ate?”

It was only the strength of honor that held Athos back from driving his blade into the man when the boy turned away, unable to answer. Instead, he took some coin from his own purse and held it out to the drunk while he lowered his sword. 

“This should suffice. Now get out of my sight,” he growled.

The drunk staggered back to the tavern as Athos followed Porthos, intending to assist the man in readying the boy’s steed. Aramis helped the younger man, offering to go up the ladder to get the boy’s things. D’Artagnan shook his head with a sheepish smile.

“I have some things hidden in the hay. I can get them on my own. “

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” 

“No, I’m fine. I’ll be just a few minutes!” With that, d’Artagnan carefully made his way into the loft. Stormy blue eyes watched from the stall that held a gentle mare. He stepped out to stand next to Aramis.

“We need to find a place for him to stay until we find him something a little more permeant.”

“He can stay with me,” Aramis replied, without any hesitation. 

“Are you sure?” Athos asked, not really surprised by his brother’s response.

The other man dipped his head in assent. “I don’t know why, but I feel drawn to him. Besides, he’ll need looking after what that brute did to him.”

Athos held back a knowing grin as the youngster joined them, clutching a small bag with a hopeful smile on his lips that strangely reminded him of Fury. He noted the blade and pistol strapped to the young man’s hips.

With Porthos leading Tempest, the four made their way back to the three waiting horses. Athos watched as Aramis whispered into d’Artagnan’s ear, the boy’s face lighting up with delighted surprise.

The gifts would not be wasted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: I felt bad about the last chapter being so short so I thought I would post a new chapter. Now, some of you may be unhappy with this chapter but Porthos will get his spotlight in chapter 6. This one is for Athos. Hope you enjoy, and remember, crackfic.

“So…is it common for musketeers to travel with a wolf at their side?”

Porthos glanced first at Fury who was trotting alongside the wagon then at Bonnaire. “You’re at my side aren’t cha?”

The scrawny explorer scowled, looking offended before taking another sip from the gourd of wine. Behind them, Athos almost cracked a smile. Between the banter and the playful antics of the wolf, the slow trip seemed a bit less stressful. Of course that couldn’t last long.

“We’re being followed. Riders dressed in black,” Aramis said as he rode up next to him.

Athos nodded. “We need to find a place to stop…”

“Maybe we should just let Fury play fetch.” Aramis laughed as the young wolf chased a rabbit by hopping with it. “Or not… Are we sure he’s a predator?”

“I ask myself that often, but then I remember how he stood in front of those guards, daring any of them to take the shot.”

Aramis sobered. “He’s such an enigma. I am never certain of what goes through that head of his.”

“There is one thing I am certain of when it comes to him,” Athos replied, tilting his head towards the returning creature. “He is loyal to us.”

“That he is.” Aramis smiled shyly. “I keep trying to tempt Fury to come home with me so d’Artagnan can meet him but he always disappears, like he doesn’t want to enter the house.”

“Hm…that is odd considering how many times we’ve stayed at inns.”

“And how many times he’s managed to take up an entire bed…”

Athos actually smiled at that. “How is d’Artagnan?”

“He healed up very well and is now trying to earn his keep by doing house work and cooking.” The man’s expression darkened as he spoke. “I tell him that he doesn’t need to but he insists.”

“I thought he was going to come to work at the garrison?”

“I tried, but he still fears you. Or more accurately, he fears being a disappointment to you. Again.”

“He is still hurting after what I said to him after that mess with Vadim.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, he is.” Aramis chewed his lip. “Did you know the boy tore up his own wrist trying to get away from that madman? I finally saw the scars from the rope and whatever he used to cut them. Yet, he still won’t tell me what happened. Not in any detail.”

“Then…when we return to Paris, I will apologize and personally offer him a position within the garrison. I never meant to scare him like that. I…was afraid for him.”

“I think that will make him happy. Thank you, Athos. Maybe it will help him sleep through the night to know he has a place to work.” Aramis watched as Fury fell into place on the other side of Athos. The horse didn’t even bat an eyelash, used to the wolf’s presence.

“He has nightmares?”

“Almost every night. He won’t talk to me about them though.” Aramis sighed. “I wish he would. If not me then someone.”

They both were distracted as Fury let out a soft whine and loped ahead to where an old farmhouse stood.

“I guess this is as good as we’ll get.” Athos sighed as he urged Chevalier past the slow moving cart with Aramis right behind him.  
***

Fury howled in distress. He knew Athos was in the burning building and barking didn’t appear to be helping. Every instinct told him to run, yet his heart wouldn’t allow him to abandon his friend. When he caught sight of the woman fleeing the house on horseback, his decision became clear.

He darted into the inferno, trying to ignore the smell of his singed fur. His smaller size made it easier for him to get through the flames to find the man he sought. He wrinkled his nose, the smell of wine strong even with the smoke. His heart sank. Why had Athos tried to drink himself to death? Were the memories of this house so painful?

Whining, he nudged the man with his nose. He groaned and turned his head just enough so Fury could see the blood soaking the dark hair. Huffing, Fury shifted to his naked human form, hoping that he would be able to pass this off as a hallucination if Athos even remembered.

“Come on, I need to get you out of here…”

“D’Artagnan…” Athos looked at him, not really seeing him. “What…?”

“Never mind that. We really have to leave. Like now. Can you put your arm over my sho-“

There was a sudden cracking sound overhead. Instinctively needing to protect his friend, d’Artagnan covered Athos with his own body, hoping that he would be able to heal quickly since it was so close to the full moon. The searing pain he expected never came.

Lifting his head, he was shocked to find a huge pair of dark colored wings protecting the two of them. His eyes ran down to their base. Disbelief colored his featured as he realized they were attached to drunken man.

“Athos…” he whispered in awe as the wings lifted, dropping the burning debris behind them. The crashing sound jolted d’Artagnan from his stupor. He grabbed the musketeer and pulled him to his feet, helping him out of the house.

Together, they stumbled from the inferno that was once a house and collapsed on the lawn. D’Artagnan poured water from a boda bag he retrieved from Chevalier’s saddle bag, washing the soot from Athos’ face as the man babbled. He tried to make sense of it but there was no straight line of thought.

“You’re telling me the ghost of your dead wife is trying to kill you?”

“She’s not dead, d’Artagnan. She survived…” Tears fell from reddened eyes.

“This was her revenge?”

Athos grabbed the younger man’s bare shoulders, his expression begging d’Artagnan to understand. “It was my duty! It was my duty to uphold the law, my duty to condemn the woman I loved to death! I’ve clung to the belief that I had no choice. Five years, learning how to live in a world without her…” He slumped backwards. “What do I do now?”

D’Artagnan lowered his head, finally understanding the demons that haunted Athos and wishing there was something he could do.  
***

Athos awoke with his head resting on something warm and furry. Sitting up, he realized he owed his comfort to Fury. He sat up, waking the wolf, confusion plain on his face.

“Why did I think you were d’Artagnan?” He sighed, scrubbing his face. 

A soft whimper preceded a gentle nudge to one of his wings. Glancing around in a panic, Athos sighed in relief that no one had come to investigate the fire. The house was now nothing more that smoldering ruins. It was better that way. Another nudge caused him to once again focus on the wolf. A small smile appeared on his lips.

“They are a…family trait. The story goes that several generations ago, a man found an angel bathing in a lake, falling instantly in love with her. He stole her cloak, so she could not return to heaven. He begged her for one week. At the end of that week, he would return the cloak to her, but he would do everything in his power to cause her to fall in love with him. Much to her surprise, she did. All of their descendants are born with wings that we can, thankfully, make much smaller.”

Athos didn’t understand why he felt the need to tell the wolf the story, but it felt right. Especially when Fury seemed to actually be listening and understanding the importance of the tale. He shook his head. Aramis was correct- he needed to lay off the wine.

His smile grew just a bit as he reached out to ruffle the wolf’s fur. “Promise you won’t tell Aramis or Porthos?” Fury whined and surged into the petting, his tail wagging. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now we need to get to Paris. Hopefully, Porthos hasn’t killed Bonnaire…”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them (Even the ones in bold, please)  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Aramis' secret. If you don't quite understand where his is from, you may wish to pay a visit to your nearest gaming shop.
> 
> And a huge thank you to the people who have started watching my Tumblrs! Took me waaaay longer than it should have to realize I had more followers.

Fury sat next to Athos, resisting the urge to whine. The sun was hot on his fur causing him to pant. He glanced up as Porthos spoke.

“I’m thinkin’ o’ fainting jus’ fer something ta do.”

Fury would have laughed had he been human, but this was a musketeer duty. The wolf would be tolerated but d’Artagnan wouldn’t. Not yet at least. When Aramis had brought the boy to the garrison, Athos had been at his side too with Porthos right behind them. Upon meeting Captain Treville, the older man had looked at the younger and asked one question. 

_“Do you want to be a musketeer?”_

_D’Artagnan managed to not take the step back into Porthos even though his wolf instincts told him to turn tail and flee. He swallowed and answered with honesty._

_“I’m not sure if I have the right to that honor, sir.”_

_Treville smiled with a small nod. “You will. It will take hard work but I believe you can earn your commission. Especially with these three as your mentors.”_

It was that memory that kept the wolf sitting next to Athos, though his ears perked at the word “Savoy”, whispered with such reluctance. He lifted his head, observing the blank look on Aramis’ face. It was disturbing to see the man so lost in himself. He was tempted to go nudge the sharpshooters hand with his head just to see if he could get a response but didn’t have the time as his sharp hearing picked up the sound of a carriage approaching.   
***

Fury growled at the man behind Aramis. He smelled wrong and it sent his wolf senses into a frenzy. This man would hurt his friend if he was allowed to escape. He bunched up, ready to tear the man’s throat out when Aramis crouched in front of him.

“Please, Fury, calm down. This is Marsac, a friend of mine. I need to hear him out…”

It was the slight tone of desperation in his friend’s voice that finally calmed the raging beast inside him. He forced himself to relax, focusing on Aramis, trying to convey his concern. This man, this Marsac, was bad. He would hurt Aramis.

“Why do you speak to that dog as if he understands you?”

Aramis rose from his crouch and turned to face the other in one fluid movement. “Perhaps it is because he has been loyal to me. He has never left me for dead amidst twenty of our fallen brothers!”

Marsac flinched at that. “I’m sorry, Aramis. But they were not your true brothers!”

“The musketeers have been more of a family than the Brotherhood ever was!” Aramis snapped back. 

“Fair enough, but I know who killed them…”

“So you say. Do you have proof of this?”

“I do! Please, Aramis! In honor of the friendship we once had, hear me out.”

Fury whined as Aramis sighed is resignation. “Fine, but not here.”  
***

The wolf sat patiently in the kitchen as Aramis secured Marsac. He watched as Constance gathered the fabric and supplies she needed for her new project. He wished he could speak to her but he had never been taught to do that without a bond. Lowering his head, a soft whine of frustration escaped him.

“You should tell them, d’Artagnan.”

His head snapped up as Constance crouched in front of him, her hands reaching out to ruffle his ears. He would curse the day he told her about that weakness, but damn if it didn’t feel like a little bit of Heaven. His eyes briefly closed in contentment.

“It would make things easier for you.”

Shaking his head, Fury let out a slight huff. There was no way he could tell his friends that he was a werewolf. They would be obligated to shoot him on sight. No, it was better that he keep his secret, just as he would keep the wings of Athos a secret.

“Fine.” Constance sighed. "I have a bone I was going to use for a soup, but you'd probably get more enjoyment out of it."

Despite his best intentions, his tail started to wag.  
***

Fury followed Aramis out of the house, tilting his head in curiosity when the man moved past the horses, heading towards the well. The musketeer took a sip of water before sitting on the edge. Fury sat next to him, happy when the man found a bowl to pour some water into for him. He eagerly lapped it up before he came to rest his head on the man's knee, listening to Aramis talk about Savoy. He could tell the memory was a painful one.

Then the man traced a faded scar on his ring finger. “The musketeers are not the first brotherhood I have been a part of.”

Fury raised his head, looking at the scar, a memory floating to the surface. His father had told him of the secretive brotherhoods of the underground. One, the Order of Assassins, would brand their middle finger when they were fully accepted into the brotherhood.

The wolf stared at the brand, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him. Aramis was the kindest, most gentle man he had ever met- there was no way he could be a cold blooded assassin! Although, it might explain the kinship he felt with him…

“Marsac and I joined the musketeers to be the eyes and ears for the Brotherhood. Then Savoy happened and…and …” Aramis choked a bit, which caused Fury to return his head to the man’s leg, offering silent comfort. “I couldn’t return to them after that. It felt like they betrayed me so I stayed with the only family that treated me like family.”

He sighed, gently scratching the wolf’s ears. “And now I don’t know what to do…”  
***

D’Artagnan looked out the window as he set the table. The rain was coming down in sheets now. He sighed, hoping Aramis would be home soon so his dinner wouldn’t be cold. 

Fury had bourn witness to the events surrounding Marsac and the Duke of Savoy. He heard what really happened and the pain that laced the captain’s voice as he spoke of the regret in giving up his men’s lives like that. The werewolf’s heart had gone out to all three men in that moment, but especially to Aramis as he held his dying brother.

D’Artagnan had thought to do whatever he could to cheer Aramis. He knew that werewolves and Assassins once worked together as a team, though his father had never told him why they no longer associated with each other. It could explain why he felt closer to this musketeer than the others.

He still wasn’t going to say anything about it to Aramis.

Hearing the front door open, d’Artagnan finished setting the table and went to greet his friend. Aramis looked terrible. Besides being soaked through, his dark eyes were reddened from tears and his skin was ashen from the cold. With a small smile, d’Artagnan started to help the man out of his wet clothes before retrieving the gifted quilt from his bed to wrap around Aramis. He gently guided the man to sit at the table where the musketeer’s favorite dish waited.

Aramis was halfway through his meal before he realized that his companion had not set a plate down for himself. “Are you not eating?”

“I kinda ate while making dinner,” d’Artagnan shyly replied, telling a half truth. He had nibbled some of the duck and ate a bit of the side dishes, but hadn’t actually made a meal.

Aramis sighed, shaking his head with a tired smile. He held up a fork of food. “Then we will share. I’ll not have you going to bed hungry.”

Chuckling, the younger man took the offering, but chewed slowly enough that he made sure Aramis ate most of it. After they were done, he picked up the dishes to take them to the sink.

“You should get some rest. You had a long day.”

Long fingers snagged his shirtsleeve. “Come with me? I don’t want to be alone…”

One look at Aramis’ expression and d’Artagnan knew he would never be able to refuse him anything.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Porthos' secret is revealed. Enjoy.

That pompous ass of a judge would have his insides torn out as soon as Fury could find the time, but for now the wolf was putting all his effort in keeping up with the cart carrying his friend away. He knew he was the only one that could do so as well as keeping Porthos safe from whatever awaited him at the end of the line. Fury’s honor would never allow harm to come to any of his adopted pack, however unaware of their standing they were.

Fury kept to the shadows, relying on his sense of smell to track the man currently being dragged by two others. He had heard stories of this place, this Court of Miracles. Supposedly there were other wolves here, lone omegas who would not otherwise be able to survive. Fury himself had once feared ending up here before Aramis offered his home. Now that he saw it with his own eyes, he was even more thankful to the musketeers.

He made his way through the crowd of people to the front of it in time to witness Porthos hugging a strange man, one who smelled of gun powder and wine. It set Fury’s hackles on edge and it took every ounce of willpower to keep the growl in his throat. This was a bad man and his friend was hugging him!

The wolf’s protective nature calmed instantly as the pretty woman removed her mask. Her tongue was sharp but she smelled of earth and light smoke with just a hint of flowers. Fury was immediately taken with her and snorted softly to realize that Porthos was as well.

He shadowed Porthos for the rest of the night, making sure to roll in some dirt along the way to make himself look more like a stray dog. For once, he was glad for his smaller size as it gave him a bit more freedom to move about. Still, he was cautious and careful-at least more so than Porthos. Fury flattened his ears as the soft noises floated past the door letting him know exactly what was going on behind it.

Then the smell of blood hit his nose. He stood from where he had been laying, covering his ears. The door hadn’t been closed all the way so he merely pushed his way in. The sight that greeted him sent fear shooting down his spine.

Porthos held the pretty blond in his arms, his mouth on her throat. A trickle of blood ran down the pale skin as the musketeer slowly drank from the woman. Her eyes were closed but her expression was serene. 

Horror caused Fury to back into a table, knocking over a wine glass. Porthos’ head snapped up, his lips still red with blood, his eyes as black as night. “Fury?”

The wolf bared his teeth at the man, fear overriding all other senses. Vampires and werewolves were mortal enemies. How Fury hadn’t recognized Porthos for what he was, he didn’t know. Now that he did, his fight or flight instincts were taking over.

Porthos took a moment to swipe a tongue over the pair of holes in the soft neck, apparently sealing them closed. He gently laid her down, careful to make sure she was in a comfortable position before he got up. Grabbing a pair of pants and slipping them on, he slowly approached the growling wolf. He knelt, his fangs gone and his eyes returned to normal.

“Fury… Pup- it’s alright! I’m not gonna hurt ya. I didn’t even really hurt Flea…” He glanced back at the woman. “She knows what I am an’ when we were growin’ up, she used ta help me.”

Fury continued to bare his teeth in warning but stopped growling. The human part of him was struggling to make the wolf part calm down. Porthos was a gentle man who protected the people he loved. There had to be a good reason for this…this…whatever this was.

Porthos returned his attention to Fury. “I was born a vampire.” 

Now that was a surprise. While vampires could bear children, it was uncommon for that child to survive. Vampires who were not bitten were very different and not always accepted. Fury silently thanked his father for telling him the stories as he relaxed a bit more.

“When I was jus’ a kid, my mother disappeared. Maybe she was staked-I don’t know. All I know is that I was suddenly alone. Ne’er knew my father. Charon an’ Flea found me, nearly starvin’ an’ took me in. They helped me and became my family.”

The man sighed, slowly reaching out to pet Fury. “I know wolves and vampires don’t usually get along but I’m not bitten. I can control my blood cravings. Blood makes me stronger, which is why Flea offered herself ta me.”

The wolf nodded to himself. This was why he never realized what Porthos was. His friend was not a common blood-sucker and therefore didn’t smell like death and he could stand the sunlight. He lowered his head and pushed into Porthos’ hand.

“Guess this still means we’re friends,” Porthos said with a chuckle of amusement.  
***

Fury barely managed to contain the soft whine that threatened to burst from his throat as he watched Athos take off after Porthos. He remained curled up next to the injured Flea, determined to protect her. The woman gave the wolf a pained smile.

“He’ll be alright. Porthos may be what he is but it’s not who he is. Kinda like you, I suspect.”

Fury’s head whipped up to stare at her. She wasn’t anything supernatural; at least he didn’t think so. Maybe she was a banshee, or a witch or something else he had never encountered. The fear must have been plain on his furred face. 

Flea laughed softy. “I won’t tell anyone. I think you have to hide who you are like Porthos. As for how I figured it out, you act too smart to be just a wolf. You might want to watch that, though…” She looked down the hall. “I think you have them all so wrapped up in you, they don’t realize it.”

The wolf let out a huff of annoyance but he wasn’t sure if it was for himself or his friends. Flea chuckled and reached out to ruffle his ear with her one good hand, hitting just the right spot. His tail thumped in pleasure and for once he didn’t care.

“”Yer also not the first werewolf I’ve met.”

A cold shiver went up his spine causing the pleasure of the ear rub to vanish. He wished he could speak but he could only do that in human form. Or in wolf form to his-

He shook his body, not wanting to think on that right now. He looked at Flea, silently begging her to tell him what he needed to know to protect his pack.

“I’ve seen two others around the Court. They’re much bigger than you and seem to be looking for something. Is it you that they’re searching for? Are you lost?”

Shaking his head in the negative, Fury stood. They probably weren’t looking for him specifically, but they had an idea that there was at least one wolf somewhere in Paris. They would force him into their pack, not realizing that he already had a pack and a- 

Fury lowered his head, trying not to cry. If the other werewolves found out about his pack, they would kill them. The only way to protect his friends would be to leave them. Being as young as he was, the separation would kill him. It was only a question of if it would be before or after the other pack found him.  
***

Fury kept pace with Fidget as he always did, yet it felt different. This would be the last time he did this. The last time he would travel with these musketeers who had become family to him. He wondered if they would even miss him. Would they miss d’Artagnan?

He slowed as they reached the gate to the garrison and watched as the three riders entered. It was time. For as much as he wanted to, he would not howl his farewell. Instead, he slipped silently away, four paws carrying a heart made heavy by human feelings.

He didn’t look back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them (Even the ones in bold, please) Especially the ones in bold.  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Part one of the reveal for those few still with me. Might post the second part this weekend.

Aramis woke the next morning, feeling better than he would have thought he would after all the wine the three of them shared. He went to wake d’Artagnan after going through his morning routine. He couldn’t help but to be a bit worried, though. The boy was usually up before him, making breakfast, not to mention the fact that d'Artagnan had been nowhere to be found the night before.

Upon opening the door, his worry increased. The bed hadn’t been slept in, though all of d’Artagnan’s things were where they should be. Aramis closed the door, trying to come up with a good reason for his friend to not have come home the night before.

He was still trying to convince himself that d’Artagnan had simply found a pair of warm arms to spend the night in (and failing to ignore that flicker of jealousy that thought caused) when he spotted the note on the table in the kitchen. When he picked it up, Aramis was disgusted to see his hand shaking. He immediately recognized d’Artagnan’s handwriting.

_Dearest Aramis,_

_I am sorry but I must leave. I will miss you, Athos and Porthos. Please forgive me._

_D’Artagnan_

There was tightness in the medic’s chest and when he touched his face, he found his cheeks were wet. As he reread the note, worry changed to panic. He knew d’Artagnan was in trouble. There was no other explanation for the boy needing to leave without any of his things.

Grabbing his hat and weapons, he fled his home, making straight for the garrison.  
***

“Are you sure you are well?”

Porthos sighed, nodding. “I’m fine, Athos. I didn’t even really get hurt. Well, other than my pride…”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what ya meant. Charon made his choice. Flea will rule-“

Porthos was cut off as the pair caught sight of an obviously distressed Aramis running into the courtyard. Athos scowled, knowing that his friend rarely allowed himself to become this upset without good reason. He stood as did Porthos as Aramis joined them. 

“Please…d’Artagnan…he’s gone missing!” 

Athos caught the man’s shoulders. “Aramis, breathe. Then tell us why you think he’s missing. Again…”

Aramis didn’t wait. “No! We have to go find him now! I don’t know why but I just know that he’s in trouble! Please! We need to find him!”

Porthos started towards the stables. “I’ll get the horses…”

“…While I inform the captain of our whereabouts.” Athos forced Aramis to sit on the bench at their table. “You will sit here and catch your breath before you pass out.”

After making sure the medic would not move, Athos headed upstairs and rapped lightly on the door. A gruff voice answered, giving him permission to enter. Taking a deep breath, he walked into his captains chambers, such as they were. The older man didn’t even look up from his paperwork.

“Captain…”

“You and the other two have the day to find the boy.”

Athos blinked. “Sir?”

Treville finally lifted his head. “I am aware that d’Artagnan did not return to his lodgings last night. It is imperative that he be found.”

“Not that I am…disagreeing with you but…why? Why is it so important to find him?”

Treville glanced away, as he often did when collecting his thoughts. “There have been sightings of wolves in Paris-wolves that are not musketeers. D’Artagnan is in danger if he is alone.”

“Forgive me, sir, but I don’t understand…”

“You will.” Blue eyes met with blue eyes. “Tonight is the night of a new moon. You will need to find him before the sun rises.”

Athos scowled. “You seem to know more about what’s going on than you let on.”

“I knew Alexander d’Artagnan when we were both much younger. He shared…family secrets with me. That is all I will say on this matter. You are dismissed!”

Bowing his head knowing he would get nothing more from his captain, Athos turned and left the office. He found his two closest friends and three saddled horses waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “We have until sunrise.”

“Or wha'?” Porthos asked as Athos mounted up.

“I have no idea, but Treville seems to think that is all the time we have.”

“Then let’s find him before then,” Aramis said turning Fidget towards the gates of the garrison. 

Athos nodded, as did Porthos, the three making a silent vow to not rest until their friend was safe and sound with the only family they had.  
***

The sky was darkening as quickly as Aramis’ hopes. Most of the day had been spent searching old haunts and asking people if they had seen d’Artagnan. While none had seen the boy, many mentioned seeing a grey and white wolf heading for the outskirts of town. 

“Maybe when we find Fury, we'll find tha whelp.”

Aramis lifted his head at the deep voice of his friend. “Perhaps, but I don’t think the two ever met.”

“Not that we know of, at least.” Athos paused, lifting his head at the cry of a falcon. He paused and turned towards the sound. Aramis and Porthos trailed after him, a questioning look shared between them. Still, they would not question their leader. As the bird swooped in front of them, the three men picked up the cries of a creature in distress-a familiar creature.

“Fury!” Aramis kicked Fidget into a gallop, surging past Athos. The pair urged their mounts to follow, Porthos letting out a few choice curse words.

They burst into a clearing surprising the three men and two women gathered there. The five humans surrounded a great brown wolf who stood over a smaller bloodied grey one. One of the men, a hulking brute, turned to growl at the musketeers.

“Leave! You have no business here.”

“We do have business here. That is our friend you have. We will not leave without him.” Aramis’ voice held a sharpened edge that sounded like he was in control when in truth, he was barely holding onto his frayed nerves.

The man appeared startled. He turned his head to stare at Fury for a few moments before turning to the rest of the people gathered. Together, they closed the ring around the pair of wolves.

_‘Aramis…you need to run…leave me before they kill you…Please…’_

Aramis blinked, confused at hearing his friend’s voice in his head. “D’Artagnan?”

The man who had spoken burst into laughter. “I don’t believe it! The idiot actually did it! I’m willing to bet he created a pack bond with all of them!”

One of women joined in the laughter. “Well that explains quite a bit!”

“What are you talking about?” Aramis growled in frustration.

The man’s grin grew sinister. “Maybe it’s time you find out!”

All three horses shied as the man started to transform before them. He grew taller and bulkier, his body morphing as fur spread across his body. His facial features stretched and elongated into a furred muzzle as hands turned to paws, fingernails becoming claws. He remained upright, a disturbing blend of wolf and human. Behind him, the other humans were changing as well, though they made no move to join their leader.

The musketeers dismounted readying themselves for a battle they weren’t sure they even had a chance of winning. Though they each held their secrets, none of them had actually confronted something like this. It was Aramis striding forward, his friends flanking him that seemed to cause the smaller wolf to react.

_‘NO! I won’t let you hurt my pack!’_

Startled at hearing d’Artagnan’s voice in his head again, Aramis stopped. The three men could only stare in shock as the smaller wolf stood, throwing off his captor. Before the large wolf could respond, Fury charged the leader, knocking the startled Alpha to the ground. In seconds, the young wolf had his powerful jaws clamped around the werewolf’s throat, crushing it in an adrenalin fueled rage. Lifting his head, he turned to the other pack.

_‘Leave!’_

The other werewolves fled in terror, not even sparing their dead leader a last glance. He had been defeated which made him unworthy of being mourned. Panting, Fury turned toward his own pack. He made it two steps before his legs gave out under him. 

Aramis darted forward, catching the collapsing wolf and cradling him in his lap. He looked up at Athos and Porthos, fear apparent on his face.

“I…I don’t know what to do!”

Porthos knelt, growling when he caught sight of the stone hanging on a cord around the wolf’s neck. “First, get that blasted moonstone off o’ him! If this is who I think it is he’s too young ta have that on him!”

Aramis didn’t even question his friend, tearing the stone off and throwing it away. Immediately, the creature in his lap began to shift. In seconds, a naked d’Artagnan lay in his arms, shivering and bleeding from dozens of painful wounds.

Athos took off his cloak and used it to cover the boy, now understanding why Treville was so worried. It also cleared up the confusion about why he thought d’Artagnan was the one who rescued him from the fire. Glancing at his fellow musketeers, he saw the realization dawning on them as well.

“Come, let’s get him home. I have a feeling that it will be a long night for all of us.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Most secrets are revealed in this, though d'Artagnan will keep a pretty important one to himself (one even my Tumblr readers don't know about yet.) And yes, I did cut this one in half.

“I’ve stitched and bandaged his wounds…” Aramis said, his voice lowered to keep from disturbing his patient. “But I don’t understand- if he is a werewolf, why is he not healing?”

“Cause o’ tha new moon.” Porthos gestured towards the window. “He’s closer ta bein’ a human now as he is ta bein’ a wolf ona full moon.”

Aramis blinked, kicking himself for not remembering that. As a child, growing up in the brotherhood, he had been fascinated by the thought of werewolves and assassins working together. His instructors frowned upon his desire to study the creatures and discouraged his inquisitiveness saying that the bond between the two groups had been broken.

“You seem to know quite a bit about werewolves, Porthos,” Athos remarked, leaning against the wall next to the small window.

They were gathered in d’Artagnan’s room, which was really too small for all of them, but at this point, they realized they needed each other. It wasn’t every day that one found their friend was a werewolf. Or had said friend kill in defense of that …friendship?

Aramis shook his head, wondering what it was they now had between the four of them. Still, Athos had brought up a good point. He turned to observe his best friend duck his head slightly before raising it defiantly. Aramis let out a startled gasp at the solid black eyes and long, sharp fangs.

“Nosferatu!”

Athos stood a little straighter, his head tilted in curiosity. “I thought wolves and vampires were mortal enemies?”

Porthos blinked and his features returned to normal. “Better to know tha enemy but I was born a vampire. I guess I don’t follow tha rule of those bitten. Fury accepted me when he found out…After he almost wet the floor…”

Athos nodded even as Aramis chucked, relaxing in the knowledge that he didn’t need to fear his friend. Porthos was still Porthos, just as d’Artagnan was d’Artagnan. He leaned over and took the darker hand in his.

“I suppose this means we have two supernatural in the company…well, as soon as we get our boy here his commission…”

A gentle clearing of a throat caused the two of them to glance up at Athos. The man had his head down, appearing suddenly shy. In all the years Aramis had known the man, he never acted this way.

“I suppose, since we seem to be sharing secrets …” Athos slid off his loose shirt, having discarded his doublet earlier. A pair of dark colored wings slowly unfurled from his back, stretching out to brush the walls of the small room.

Aramis heard his delighted gasp echoed by Porthos as he stood. “Oh, Athos! They’re beautiful! May…May I touch them?”

Shock replaced the shyness on Athos’ face as he nodded. Grinning like a child being given an expensive gift, Aramis gently ran his fingers over the small feathers that lay along the ridge of one wing. His eyes widened in surprised glee.

“They’re soft!”

Athos almost cracked a smile.

“Can you actually fly?” Porthos quietly asked, trying to be mindful of the injured werewolf in the room.

“I can, but I haven’t in a long time.” He took in the twin hopeful stares and sighed. “Perhaps after d’Artagnan is better, we could find some place…”

All eyes returned to the unconscious boy. “I told him the story of my ancestor after he rescued me from the fire at my home. He was in his wolf form so I never even thought that anyone would know…”

“D’Artagnan never spoke of them to me,” Aramis said, taking a step away from Athos. “Just as he never spoke of you being a vampire, Porthos.”

“Apparently, he’s good at keepin’ secrets,” the vampire replied with a scowl.

Aramis chewed his lip for a second before coming to a decision. “He kept mine as well.”

Porthos and Athos both watched him leave the room, the question plain on their faces. He didn’t answer them as left, entering his own room. Running a hand over his face, he leaned against the door for a moment. His secret was one he couldn’t just speak of, it needed proof, especially with what he had seen tonight. With a sigh, he stood and walked over to his bed. Kneeling, he pulled out a small flat chest with a distinctive symbol carved into it. Opening it, he brushed the grey fabric of the hooded tunic. It took him only a few minutes to change into the clothes he had once been so comfortable in.

As soon as he reentered d’Artagnan’s room, Athos was in front of him, wings spread, creating a barrier between him and the other two night creatures. Aramis took a step back, the hurt clearly written on his face. He pushed back the hood.

“So a vampire gets a head tilt but I get a full defensive stance?”

Athos bowed his head and tucked his wings. “I…I apologize Aramis. I…my family had a history with your Order.”

“They are no longer my Order…well, not really.” Aramis looked at the gauntlet that housed his hidden blade. “I guess I’m more of a sleeper agent now. But…what did you mean that you had history with us-them?”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Athos brushed back strands of dark hair from a pale forehead. “About a hundred years ago, an Assassin protected my family from a group of fanatics. He said that the Order believed we were agents of God and should be protected against all darkness. He and a few others were supposedly forced to slay a wolf pack as well.”

“And you thought I was here to continue that protection?”

“It…it was…an instinctive reaction. I saw the hood and all I could think was to protect my brothers.”

Porthos suddenly reached over and clasped Athos’ shoulder. “So, even after all you’ve seen tonight, you still think of us as brothers?”

“Yes,” Athos replied without hesitation. He looked up at Aramis. “All of us. Just…please give me a bit of notice before you spring something like that on me?”

Aramis laughed and leaned down to hug Athos. “I promise!”

“Does this mean…I have my pack back?” All three men turned to grin at the man weakly smiling at them. 

“You never lost it, pup.”

“Why did you run away like that, anyways?” Aramis asked, settling on the bed as well.

D’Artagnan closed his eyes and turned his head. “Flea…she told me that she had seen a pair of wolves roaming the court. I knew they were scouts, looking to build up their pack. I…I couldn’t let them find you…not with the secrets that you shared with me. And if they found out what I had done, they would have gone after all three of you.”

“What did you do?” asked Athos, scowling in confusion.

“Ya created a pack bond wit’ three supposed humans,” Porthos answered from his position in the chair by the bed. “That’s not a good thing wit’ packs, is it?”

“No…they are allowed for maybe one but…not with three.” He opened his eyes, to look at each one of his friends. “I…I didn’t mean to, but I had no one else…”

Aramis chewed his lip for a moment before asking, “What happened to your pack?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them (Even the ones in bold, please)  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: This chapter is a bit darker and hints at Aramis/d'Artagnan. I haven't really put that into the relationship tag yet because for one, I didn't write it out and two, it really hasn't much impact on the story so far. However, it will in a future chapter but for now, I'm leaving that tag off. If anyone here is waiting for a relationship to _actually_ happen, it's coming! I promise. (I think in two chapters?)

D’Artagnan whimpered softly as he struggled to sit up and hating himself for it. He was a werewolf for crying out loud- he shouldn’t be showing such weakness to his friends. His brothers. 

Athos and Porthos helped him while Aramis fretted about his wounds. They placed extra pillows behind him so that even with his injuries he could be comfortable. He smiled, catching Aramis’ scent on them and realizing where they came from.

After drinking the cup of water Aramis insisted he finish, d’Artagnan settled down to finally expose his heart to those he trusted and loved. Lowering his eyes so he wouldn’t witness the disgust and rebuke he knew would come, he started to tell his pack his most shameful secret.

“My parents…they had trouble having a baby. My mother miscarried more than once, but she was determined that she would give my father a child. Unfortunately, they ended up with me.”

He felt Aramis take his hand as Athos and Porthos moved closer. No one said a thing though, as if they knew how hard it was for the young man to speak. His heart swelled with gratitude.

“I was born early, a…a _runt_.” He spat the word out as viciously as it had been thrown at him earlier that day. “Being born as such…I had only one destiny in the pack. After my twelfth birthday I would begin my training…”

His throat closed up and he ducked his head even more. Aramis gently squeezed his hand- in sympathy or encouragement, d’Artagnan didn’t know. He savored the moment, fearing it would be the last.

“What training?” Athos asked softly as he tried to brush back more of the unruly hair that kept the boy’s face hidden.

“To become the pack’s whore.”

He flinched at the trio of gasps. He instinctively tried to move to run away, but two sets of hands on his shoulder held him in place. Glancing up, d’Artagnan saw only sympathetic horror on Athos’ face. Porthos gently squeezed his shoulder in understanding though when the wolf turned his head, he could see the man’s features were pinched as if he were in pain.

It was only when he realized that Aramis had frozen up, a look of abject fear gracing his expression, that he felt his heart sink. Swallowing he tried to continue his story though it was difficult when the hand that held his had gone cold. Again lowering his eyes, he began speaking again.

“My…my parents…they couldn’t let that happen to the child they had wanted so badly, so one night my mother bundled me up and the three of us fled. We found a home in Lupiac where they raised me to be a…a…” He trailed off, not knowing if he would be laughed at.

“A soldier?” Athos quietly offered. 

D’Artagnan snuffled as he nodded, his emotions frayed and coming undone. “My father wanted me to be prepared…to fight for my own path. For as long as I can remember, both of my parents spent hours teaching me the things I would need to know to survive in a human world.” He smiled fondly at the memories, forgetting everything else for the moment.

“But somethin’ happened…” Porthos prompted, tightening his hold once more.

“Gaudet.”

Athos scowled at the name. “The…former captain of the Red Guard?”

D’Artagnan once again nodded, not raising his face. “He…he was also one of the Cardinal’s most loyal Hunters. My mother was his first kill. After…after that…my father tried to save up money so we could come to Paris to hide but…I guess fate is a funny thing…”

“Oh, d’Artagnan…” 

The boy finally lifted his head at Aramis’ softly spoken words. Tears were slipping down the older man’s cheeks, even as guilt dominated his countenance. D’Artagnan tilted his head, confused.

“Athos, Porthos? I need moment alone with d’Artagnan…” He forced a smile as he glanced at their commanding officer. “I promise to not kill him.”

Athos almost smiled, slightly abashed, shaking his head as he gained his feet. “Porthos and I will go get some dinner to bring back here.”

“Thank you…”

Aramis managed to wait until after the other two left before he spoke again. “D’Artagnan, I am so sorry for what I did to you…”

Tilting his head in confusion, the younger man frowned. “You did nothing to me.”

“I treated you like your pack…I had no right to ask you to share my bed that night. Now…now I know you did it because you felt you had –“

D’Artagnan cut off his rambling with gentle fingers to the assassin’s lips. “I have done nothing that I have not wished to. I want to see you happy, Aramis. Just as I wish to see Athos and Porthos happy. Yet, that night, I was selfish. I wanted what wasn’t mine, so I should be the one offering the apology.”

This time, the confusion clouded Aramis’ expression as the other removed his hand. “I…I don’t understand.”

“I wanted you that night even though I know you belong to another.” He smiled a little shyly. “At least your heart belongs to another.”

Aramis blinked in surprise. “How could you know that?”

“I am a wolf- we can sense things like that.” D’Artagnan smiled, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “You should tell him.”

“You cannot convince me that your wolf senses told you who it was…”

At that, d’Artagnan actually did laugh. “No, but my human eyes are fairly good. I’ve seen the way you are around Porthos. You love him and I am certain that he loves you too.”

Aramis blushed, a true rarity in itself. “But…are you not angry with me?”

“Why should I be? We both needed comfort that night. I understood then that it would last just that one night. It’s fine.”

Aramis turned away and stood. “I should…I need to get out of these clothes before Athos tries to run me through or something.”

D’Artagnan chuckled and nodded. “That might be a good idea.”

Pausing at the door, Aramis turned around. “If Porthos wasn’t in my life, I could easily see myself falling in love with you.”

“Thank you…” came the soft reply. Aramis didn’t need to know what those words cost him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Since it seems the last chapter wasn't very good, I though I would post the next one a little bit earlier. It's a lighthearted chapter. Thus starts the chapters that even my PI Tumblr followers haven't even gotten to read.

The assignment was done and it appeared to Athos that for once, it had been a success. True, it hadn’t been that difficult, escorting a minor noble back home. The king volunteered him for the duty and he asked Treville if d’Artagnan could accompany him, in private of course. The captain had only been too happy to agree.

The thin crescent moon was just cresting over the horizon as the pair stopped at an inn not far from the noble’s house. As d’Artagnan took care of the horses, Athos paid for a room and requested two meals to be brought up to it. While a fair travelling companion, the noble stretched the limits of the musketeer’s ability to deal with people in general.

The two bowls of stew and the loaf of bread arrived just as Athos finished stowing their gear. If it tasted half as good as it smelled they were in for a treat. As good as Serge’s cooking was, it was nice to have something a bit different in flavoring. Plus, there was more than a few chunks of meat in the thick sauce, something he knew the young werewolf would enjoy.

Athos smiled as the young man entered the room. “I had our supper brought up here. I hope you don’t mind.”

Grinning, d’Artagnan shook his head. “Not at all! Perhaps you might want to stretch out your wings?”

Shaking his head at the hopeful tone in the young man’s voice, Athos none the less agreed. Upon their return to the garrison from this current mission, Treville had granted the four a week’s leave with the key to a safe house outside of Paris that was rarely used. Both Aramis and Porthos were looking forward to seeing Athos actually take to the air. D’Artagnan seemed content just seeing the black wings, laughing with delight when one of them brushed against him.

He slipped off his shirt and relaxed his hold on his wings, letting them flow from his back. Athos sighed as the tension slipped away, his muscles loosening now that they no longer had to keep the wings restrained. They easily touched the opposite walls as he extended them.

“Hey- you have a loose feather,” d’Artagnan pointed out.

Wrapping his wing around him, Athos found the long feather. Grinning, he pulled it from the others and held it out for his companion to take. He almost laughed at the young man’s horrified expression.

“It’s alright, d’Artagnan. It’s common for me to loose feathers like this. Thankfully, we don’t molt like birds but on occasion, some get damaged and are replaced. See? This one is a bit bent.”

Taking the feather, d’Artagnan held it as it were made of fragile glass. “I…I can have it?”

Athos snorted. “Of course. If you would like, I’ll have a pillow made with them-Lord knows I damage enough of them.”

At that, d’Artagnan did laugh. Still, he took great care putting the feather in his pack, making sure it would not get damaged further. When he straightened, he held something else in his hands- a brown paper wrapped parcel.

“Aramis helped me make this for you.” He grinned, holding the package out to Athos.

The musketeer took the gift, curiosity getting the better of him. He untied the string that bound the paper together, letting the paper fall open. Inside was a plain white shirt. Confused, he held it up and turned it around. It was then he realized what made this shirt so special. The back had been cut open, allowing his wings to be free while keeping the rest of his upper body covered. The bottom of the back could be laced up to hold the shirt in place.

“Um…sorry about the corset lacing. It was the only way we could come up with to tie the bottom of the shirt together.”

“It’s fine. This is…it’s wonderful. Thank you!” He slipped it over his head, enjoying the fact that the cool air in the room no longer touched his skin. D’Artagnan slipped behind him to do up the ties.

“Is that alright?”

Athos looked down at his gift and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

The Gascon came back around, a shy smile on his lips. “Aramis taught me how to make them so…I could make you more…if you wanted…”

“Only if you wished to do so. I don’t make it a habit of letting my wings out.”

“Well, if it encourages you to do so more often, I’m willing.” D’Artagnan immediately started laughing as he unsuccessfully tried to dodge a wing upside his head.  
***

His eyes snapped open in confusion, wondering what woke him. He blinked as he realized it was still dark outside. While he wasn’t a deep sleeper, it usually took a lot to get Athos wide awake, especially in the middle of the night.

Then he heard it- the soft whimpering coming from the other side of the bed. He rolled over, scowling to discover the bed empty. The sounds seemed to be coming from the floor. He rolled into the spot d’Artagnan should have been occupying and looked down. Between the bed and the small fireplace was Fury. He was lying on his side panting, his tongue lolling. His paws twitched in time to the quiet cries of distress. When the wolf threw back his head, Athos caught sight of the problem.

“Curse you d’Artagnan!” 

The man flung himself from the bed and to the wolf’s side. Grabbing the familiar moonstone pendant, he tore it from his friend’s neck. Immediately, the form shifted becoming human in seconds. Yet the cries did not fade, becoming even more agonized sounding as d’Artagnan curled into a fetal position. Athos was horrified to see the tears streaming down the younger man’s cheeks.

“D’Artagnan! What is it? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” He ran his eyes over the trembling body, searching for any wounds.

“In…inside…” d’Artagnan managed before biting down on his hand to keep from howling as another wave of pain tore through him.

Athos could only watch helplessly as the pain caused the werewolf’s body to arch away from him. He noticed that the boy didn’t clutch his stomach but clawed at his chest. Not knowing what else he could do, he slipped behind the writhing body and grabbed the flailing arms. Crossing them over d’Artagnan’s upper body, he hauled his friend into his lap, holding him tightly. 

It took a few seconds, but surprisingly the struggle lessened to a degree where both men could breathe easier. Athos loosened his grip but found the other pressing against him like a pup seeking affection. The thought brought a small smile to the older man’s lips.

“D’Artagnan…can you move? I’d like to get you back into bed before you freeze.” The fire had died down during the night, now only casting a soft glow and barely any warmth.

“I think so…” He tried to gather his legs under him, whining softly when his body betrayed him.

Still smiling, Athos gathered the younger man in his arms and carefully picked him up. “Remind me to have Serge feed you more. You still weigh next to nothing.”

“W...wolf metabolism… “

Athos snorted. He gently set the boy on the bed, letting go to grab the blankets he had flung off in his haste. The second his hands left the bare skin, d’Artagnan coiled himself into a ball with a quiet yelp of pain. Athos hastily seized the covers and hauled them over the both of them. He then hugged the other man to his chest, breathing a sigh of relief when the body again relaxed.

“Athos…I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad-“

“Shh. Sleep now. We’ll talk in the morning, alright?” D’Artagnan whimpered softly and Athos knew the boy would not sleep if he thought his mentor was upset with him. “While I am worried as to why you felt the need to use that cursed stone so close to the new moon, I am not angry with you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You said that already,” Athos replied. He gently kissed the dark hair in forgiveness. “Now go to sleep. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

Yawning, d’Artagnan snuffled and burrowed his head into the space under Athos’ chin. In seconds, he had slipped into a peaceful slumber. Athos stayed awake for a bit longer before he too, fell under Morpheus’ spell.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble:

Athos could feel the dejection in body he held in front of him. He knew that d’Artagnan’s pride was taking a beating right now, but Athos really did not care. After what happened the night before, he was reluctant to take any chances. Besides, the boy had woken with sore muscles and Athos didn’t want to take the chance that he would lose control of his mount, even if Tempest was the most loyal and gentle creature he had ever seen.

For now, they rode Chevalier, d’Artagnan sitting in front of him holding onto the saddle horn while Athos held the reins. Tempest kept pace next to them, her own reins attached to Chevalier’s saddle, though both men were certain the mare would have stayed with them even without the lead. They were a fair distance from the inn and yet neither one had spoken a word.

Athos gently hugged the boy. “So, what was that last night?”

D’Artagnan blushed, turning his head slightly. “You must first promise me that you will not get angry at him.”

“At who?”

“Promise me and I will tell you.”

“I can’t promise you that,” Athos carefully replied. “However, I will promise to take no action in anger toward this man.”

D’Artagnan thought about it and nodded. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

Athos waited for him to continue, seeing the younger man struggle with whatever it was he needed to say. “I really am not going to like this, am I?”

“No, you really aren’t.” D’Artagnan sighed. “You know how I said that I would have started my training the day of my twelfth birthday?”

“Yes, but as I recall, your parents saved you from that fate.”

“They did…but…I was still born a runt.”

Athos scowled, confused. Perhaps he should have asked Porthos or, even better, the Captain, about werewolves. At least then he might have understood the bitterness in his protégé’s voice. Instead, he simply tightened his hold around the slender waist and reminded himself to give more of their lunch to d’Artagnan.

“Physically, a runt is different from other werewolves. We start training from that age because before we…after we turn eighteen… um…” He blushed even deeper.

Blue eyes widened in surprised horror. “Are we having a sex talk?”

D’Artagnan choked, nearly falling from the horse’s back in mortification. Only Athos’ arm kept him in place. Still, many minutes past before either one of them could speak.

“Could we not call it that? Like ever?” d’Artagnan quietly asked.

“My apologies. Go on.”

A few more minutes passed before d’Artagnan continued. “We can’t…mate…until we’re at least eighteen. A runt is supposed to use those six years to learn to…control ourselves.”

“Control? How so?” Honestly, Athos was now glad that he hadn’t asked Porthos or Treville about this.

D’Artagnan lowered his head. “Runts are supposed to only give…pleasure. We’re not…allowed to…um…release…”

Only years of practice kept the expression on Athos’ face neutral. Inside, he was raging. The thought of d’Artagnan being…tortured like that! There was no other word for it. Unconsciously, he again tightened his hold, not that d’Artagnan seemed to mind.

“What does this have to do with what happened last night?”

“I…I accidentally mated with someone.” Suddenly panicking, d’Artagnan twisted so his fear filled eyes bore into Athos. “It wasn’t his fault! Please understand that!”

Realization suddenly dawned on Athos. “Aramis. You mated with Aramis…”

“Please don’t tell him! He doesn’t know and I don’t want him to know! It could ruin what he has now!”

“What do you mean by that?” Athos pulled the horses to a stop, needing to focus fully on the man in front of him. “What does Aramis have and how did it cause you such pain?”

D’Artagnan turned back to face away from Athos. “Aramis…has Porthos. They…they finally came together last night. I…could feel the love Aramis has for him. That…that’s what hurt…”

“Because it was love for someone else?” Athos swallowed harshly. “Couldn’t he feel your pain?”

“He’s not a werewolf.”

“Oh…” Athos dismounted, needing to do something. It was close enough that they could break for lunch he knew of a clearing that was near the road. If worse came to worse, perhaps the two could work out some frustration by sparring. He led the horses through the trees until he came to a small grass covered glade, before helping a still weakened d’Artagnan off the horse. 

“Why did you have that moonstone? I thought we left that blasted thing where we found you…”

“I…I went back for it.” Shoulders dropping in defeat, d’Artagnan’s voice fell to a whisper. “The moonstone forces a shift…it’s used to help young wolves to learn to control the change. I thought…I hoped that being in wolf form would…would dull the…pain…”

“I’m guessing that it didn’t?” At the other man’s small shake of the head, Athos huffed. “Porthos said you were too young to be using it.”

“He…he’s partially right.” It seemed that even speaking was difficult for d’Artagnan. “They’re not supposed to be used so close to the waning moon.”

Rage coursed through Athos. “The new moon was just two nights ago! What were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t, alright!” d’Artagnan shouted as he pushed Athos away. “All I knew was pain! I thought you might be the one to understand that!”

Athos inhaled sharply, seeing the wetness in the brown eyes. He did know what it was like to need to escape pain. It was why he drank so heavily. He couldn’t even argue that it wouldn’t kill him. He sighed.

“I’m sorry, d’Artagnan.” He held out his hand. “I do know what it’s like to have a broken heart.”

The younger man hesitantly took the hand, letting himself be guided to a tree. Athos made sure d’Artagnan was seated comfortably before retrieving their lunch from the saddle bags. It wasn’t until he was sitting next to the werewolf, that d’Artagnan spoke again.

“It’s not really a broken heart.”

Athos scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I…I love Aramis…I really do…” He stared down at the roll he held, clearly unsure of what to say or how to say it.

“He wasn’t the one you wanted.”

D’Artagnan shook his head miserably. “No. He…He wasn’t my first choice, but I don’t think the one I want would…want me.”

“Is it someone I know? Perhaps I could find out for you?” Athos felt his heart break, thinking that there was someone his protégé loved who didn’t love him back.

“You know him very well…” d’Artagnan mumbled, a sad smile on his lips.

“Is it Porthos?” If it was, he and Athos were going to have a very long talk, possibly over several bottles of wine.

D’Artagnan shook his head, a bitter expression appearing on his face. “That would be funny, wouldn’t it? Especially since I encourage the two of them to at least talk.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, Athos pondering those words. He had a feeling that he now knew who it was and it made him nervous. If he was right, then this could change everything.

“Can you have more than one mate?”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “If I was an alpha, maybe.”

“Is that not what you are?” Athos almost laughed at how quickly the other’s head shot up in confusion. 

“You are our leader, our leftenant.”

“But you are the only werewolf in our pack. By default, that makes you the Alpha of our pack.” He took a deep breath and prayed he was correct in his assumption. “Which means you can have more than one mate…if you want me.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them (Even the ones in bold, please)  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Sorry this took so long. RL got in the way as well as my inability to write anything even remotely sexy. So, no sexy times in this chapter. I might try again for something at a later chapter but please forgive me for now.

“W…what?”

Athos smiled at the younger man. “Last night, when I held you, your pain seemed to lessen.”

D’Artagnan blushed and looked away. “I’m sorry…I know you must not be thrilled with that revelation. I never meant to tell you.”

“Technically, you did not,” Athos teased. “However, I am honored that you would choose me. That is, if you still want me?”

“I do!” D’Artagnan’s head whipped around, his eyes wide with fear of offending his friend. “I just thought…I mean…you were married! To a woman!”

Reaching out, Athos gently cupped d’Artagnan’s cheek with one hand. “And Aramis is renowned for his love of women. What of it?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” D’Artagnan sighed softly, casting his eyes down, even as he nuzzled the hand on his cheek.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Aramis didn’t know what I was then. You do.”

Athos scowled slightly. “And you think that would change how I feel about you?”

“Doesn’t it? I’m a hound of Hell and you’re a descendant of angels.”

Athos brought up his other hand and forced the younger man to look at him. “I love you, d’Artagnan. I always will, regardless of what you are or what I am. My feelings will not change.”

He punctuated his declaration with a kiss, one that easily grew into so much more.  
***

D’Artagnan curled against the man’s side, content to just listen to the slowing heartbeat. He knew it was silly, but he was still afraid of Athos rejecting him, even more so now that he was mated to the man. It was hard enough being all but rejected by Aramis- if Athos rejected him, he wasn’t certain he would survive.

“I don’t feel any different…”

Snorting in mild amusement, d’Artagnan playfully poked Athos in the ribs. “Gee, thanks!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Athos huffed, echoing the other’s words from earlier. He held the younger man tighter, his wings wrapping around both of them as if to shield them both from the world.

“I know.” D’Artagnan settled down again, enjoying the warm body next to him as well as the softness of the feathers against his back. “It’s because you’re not a werewolf. For you…it’s just sex.”

Athos tilted his head to look at his lover. “It wasn’t just sex for me. It was much more than that because it was you. I love you d’Artagnan. And I will say it as many times as I need to for you to realize that. And I will hold you, kiss you and make love to you until you believe it as well.”

D’Artagnan smiled and pushed himself up to steal a kiss. “I love you too, Athos. More than I think you will ever know.”

“Then, when we get back to Paris, you and I will find a place together.”

Turning away to hide the pain and the tears welling up in his eyes, d’Artagnan agreed. “Yes…I’m sure now that Aramis has Porthos, he’ll want his space.”

Sitting up, Athos gently took his hand. “You should tell him.”

“No, I can’t. Then he might feel like he…he’s obligated to stay with me or some such nonsense.” He shook his head, pulling away from Athos to start gathering his clothes. He could feel the worry and fear Athos had for him, a side effect of their mating. It warmed him a bit, but did very little to alleviate the guilt. Even if Aramis had no clue what he was to d’Artagnan, it still felt like he had cheated on his mate.

“D’Artagnan? Will this help you? I mean me being…mated to you? I just didn’t want you in pain because of something that wasn’t in your control if there is something I can do about it.”

“Yes, being with you will help.” He smiled as he slipped on his shirt, handing Athos his. “I’ll still feel it, but it will be lessened because of what you did for me.”

Athos reached past the shirt, taking the arm instead and pulling d’Artagnan to him. “Because of what I did for us. I enjoyed being with you and I look forward more. Hopefully in a better setting though…”

D’Artagnan let out a soft chuckle before allowing Athos to capture his lips again.  
***

“Aramis? What’s wrong?”

The man in question raised his eyes to see his lover standing over him. They were in the courtyard of the garrison, waiting for their friends to return. Porthos used the time to throw around a few of his more willing comrades while Aramis had decided to clean both of their pistols and his own musket. About half way through reassembling his own weapon, a pain in his chest caused him to pause, setting down the part. Of course, Porthos immediately noticed.

“I…I don’t know. I just felt this pain…like someone was squeezing my chest…or maybe just my heart.”

Porthos scowled for a moment before his eyes widened in horror. Grabbing Aramis, he dragged the man into the weapon’s room. He slammed the door and locked it before turning to his lover. Aramis watched this all with wide, confused eyes.

“Porthos?”

“Did you sleep with d’Artagnan?”

Aramis blinked at the bluntly asked question. “Yes, once, but I-“

“Did he…spill?”

“Of course! I’m not that horrible of a lover that I would deny him that!” He tried, but failed, to not be offended that his current love was asking about a one night stand. His anger turned back to confusion at the expression that appear on Porthos’ face

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“If I did, would I be here confused and wondering why I’m being yelled at?” He took a step away from the vampire when the brown eyes went black. “What…I don’t understand what d’Artagnan has to do with any of this! He was the one who encouraged me to tell you how I feel!”

“Yeah, he told me the same thing just before he and Athos left…” Porthos sighed and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were back to normal. “I…I’m sorry, I scared you. It’s...it’s just that I don’t know why he didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Porthos sighed. “That you’re his mate.”

Aramis blinked again, trying to understand. There was never anything written about the mating habits of the werewolves. Actually there was very little written about them beyond how the Brotherhood could use a wolf in various situations.

“Aramis…d’Artagnan mated with you. Everything you feel, he feels.” Porthos leaned backwards against a wall, a hand running down his face. “Christ… He must’ve scared Athos last night…”

Though he was dreading the answer, Aramis needed to ask. “Why?”

Porthos stood and approached the former Assassin with care, obviously not wanting to spook him after vamping out on him. He tenderly wrapped his arms around him and Aramis once again felt safe in his presence.

“He felt the love you have…for me. He felt…everything…” Porthos swallowed harshly. “Everything that wasn’t directed towards him.”

Aramis paled as the full impact of what he caused hit him. “My god…but…if he knew, why…?”

Porthos kissed the man’s forehead. “I think it’s ‘cause he loves you and wanted you to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him.”

“Then…What was I feeling?”

“I don’t know.” Porthos shook his head. “Maybe something happened with Athos this morning. Hopefully, they didn’t run into trouble.”

“Those two?” Aramis forced a weak smile as he looked at Porthos. “Never.”  
***

Aramis and Porthos were waiting for them as they rode into the garrison. Athos slid off Chevalier, handing him off to the stable boy, turning to help d’Artagnan. He didn’t get the chance as Aramis caught the exhausted werewolf before he fell from Tempest’s back. He knew it had been a bad idea to allow the boy to ride on his own but d’Artagnan’s pride couldn’t take any more hits.

Porthos caught his eye, silently telling him that he and Aramis would make sure the youngest would make it back to his room. Athos nodded and headed up the stairs to make his report to Treville. He rapped on the captain’s door before entering.

“I gather the trip went well?”

“Yes sir. Though…If that man ever needs an escort again, I would humbly ask you send someone else.”

Treville chuckled as he finally set down the paper he was reading. “And how is d’Artagnan?”

“He is…fine. Tired but well.” Athos stared at his commander, wondering why he would ask about the recruit like that.

“Nightmares?”

“No. He just…had some trouble sleeping. I’m sure being in his own bed will help.”

“Of course. “ Treville picked up a piece of paper. “In another matter, you wouldn’t happen to know of anyone needing a home, would you? A good friend of mine needs to move to a warmer climate for his health and needs to sell his small house.” 

Trying not to be suspicious of his captain, Athos nodded. “I actually do know of someone.”

“Good. Here’s the information to get into contact with him.” He handed over the paper. “The four of you will be leaving in the morning?”

“Only if d’Artagnan is able to.” Athos paused, before adding, “Thank you again for letting us have this time.”

“I have a feeling that all of you will need it.” Treville nodded, indicating that Athos was dismissed, before returning to his paperwork.

Athos paused outside the office, taking a moment for himself. Then he headed down the stairs and left the garrison. His commanding officer was a mystery to be solved another time. For now there was his…mate to worry about.

Somehow, just the word brought a smile to his lips.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: My apologies for this chapter. It's awful to put it mildly. I wish I could do better, but that's not going to happen for a while. I lost the job I loved this last week and had virtually no support. Once again, I was reminded that I am a pathetic waste of space by the one person I always thought I could count on. Needless to say, even getting out of bed has been a challenge, let alone writing. Things are getting better, as I had a friend drag me kicking and screaming back into the world with his kindness and generosity. (The sake helped too...) So, it is thanks to him that I finished this chapter, edited it to the best of my duct taped abilities, and started the next chapter. I am tentatively saying there will be three more chapters and an epilogue. There will be no sexy times as I really suck at writing them and I really can't deal with that stress right now. Okay, I guess I babbled enough. Sorry. 
> 
> Oh, next chapter has Treville's secret. Curious if any of you have figured it out yet.

Athos paused in the doorway to d’Artagnan’s room in Aramis’ home just to watch the boy. The young werewolf’s hands carefully held the ruined feather from his wing, showing it to Aramis with pure joy and pride clearly written on his face. The older man felt his chest ache with the depth of new found love.

“Firs’ thing he asked fer when we got him here.”

Athos smiled over his shoulder, thankful Porthos kept his voice low enough to not carry into the room. He wanted to watch the interaction d’Artagnan had with Aramis, wondering if the Assassin knew what he meant to the young werewolf.

Porthos gently pulled Athos away from the bedroom after a few minutes and into the kitchen. He set about gathering food to make a light lunch for the four of them. Watching the vampire, Athos realized something.

“You know.”

Porthos looked up, dark eyes losing their forced humor. “That those two are mates? Yeah, figured that out this mornin’.”

Athos tilted his head, scowling. “How?”

“Aramis admitted ta sleeping with tha pup.” Porthos snorted, not intending the pun. “I need ta work on that…”

“How did that conversation even come up?”

Porthos finished making the sandwiches and put them on a plate. “Aramis said that his chest was hurtin’ this morning. Things jus’ kinda fell inta place fer me after that.”

“Hm.” Athos laid a hand on the larger man’s arm. “Will this be a problem?”

“Not fer us.” Porthos forced a smile. “Aramis has sworn ta not sleep wit’ me again an’ I…I agreed wit’ him. It’s not fair ta d’Artagnan.”

Athos couldn’t help but to smile at those words. “You know he wouldn’t want that.”

“I know. He’s tha one that wanted us ta get together. But neither one o’ us want him in pain…which by the way he looks, he was las’ night.”

“He used the moonstone.”

Porthos paled at that. “How…? Why…?”

“He went back to that meadow and retrieved it. He thought that being a wolf would help the pain.”

“That idiot!” He ran a hand over the tight curls that covered his scalp. “It’s too close to the new moon fer him ta be usin’ that.”

“Oh, he knows that and we’ve already discussed his use of that blasted stone.” Athos sighed and sat down at the table, gesturing for the other man to join him. “There’s something I need to discuss with you though.”

“Oh?”

“You realize that d’Artagnan is the alpha of this pack of his, yes?”

Porthos snorted. “Never thought o’ it that way but, yeah, guess he is.”

“As such, he can have…” Athos paused, his courage disappearing in the face of actually saying it out loud. His voice dropped to a whisper. “He can have more than one mate…”

The larger man blinked once, then twice before speaking. “You slept wit’ d’Artagnan this morning…”

“Y-yes…when we stopped for lunch.”

“So, is that what we’re supposed ta call it now?” Athos forced his eyes up to see Porthos grinning.

“You…you’re not angry?”

“Should I be?” The vampire shook his head. “So what does this mean? Fer d’Artagnan an’ fer me an’ Aramis?”

“When the two of you were…together last night, holding him seemed to lessen the pain he was feeling.” Athos shrugged with one shoulder. “I think that now we are mated, he’ll feel less what Aramis feels.”

“I wonder if Aramis won’t feel anything then.”

Athos felt a surge of shame as he recalled Porthos mentioning that Aramis was hurting that morning. “That is odd, though. D’Artagnan seemed to believe that Aramis would not feel anything since he is not a werewolf.”

“Maybe d’Artagnan misunderstood. It’s not like he had a pack ta really teach him.”

“Perhaps.” He stood, walking over to a cupboard to take out the wine and four cups. “We should go feed them so that we can get some sleep. We need to leave early tomorrow.”

“Do ya think we should still go?” Porthos asked as he too stood, grabbing the plate of sandwiches. 

“Treville seems to think that this will be good for us.”

“If that was supposta make me feel better, it didn’t.” The vampire scowled as he followed Athos into the bedroom. “I swear that man knows more than he’s lettin’ on!”

“Who are you talking about?” Aramis asked as they came into the room.

“Treville,” Athos replied, setting down the cups on the small nightstand to fill them.

“He smells strange,” d’Artagnan remarked softly as his fingers lightly ran over the feather in his lap. 

Aramis raised an eyebrow at the odd comment. “Strange? How so?”

“And why are ya smellin’ him?” Porthos teased.

Blushing, d’Artagnan turned away from them. “I can’t help it. When I’m in wolf form, my senses are heightened. But he smells like things I can’t place. You all have certain smells too, like Aramis’ scent is gunpowder, leather and metal. Athos…”

Curious now, the man sat down on the bed, handing the werewolf a sandwich. “Is mine so bad?”

“You smell like a bird…like the king’s hunting falcons…”

“Well, that’s not so strange,” Aramis said, as he picked up one of the sandwiches. “He does have feathers.”

“A falcon, hmm?” Athos stood and walked over to the window, opening. “That may be because I have a constant friend.”

There was a flutter of wings and a small bird of prey swooped in, landing on the headboard. The eyes of the other three men shot open as food fell to the bed. Porthos recovered from the surprise first.

“Wasn’t that the bird that led us to d’Artagnan?”

Smiling, Athos nodded. “Yes. This is my familiar, Shadow. All those born with wings have one to help and guide them. Shadow hatched the day I was born and will not die until I draw my last breath.“

Aramis watched as d’Artagnan tentatively reached out to touch the bird. “You know, when I was looking for d’Artagnan after that mess with Vadim, it was a falcon sitting on a tree branch that had me stopping at that tavern where I found him.”

A light pink appeared on Athos’ cheeks. “I know. I had Shadow following d’Artagnan.”

“Why?

“I suppose I knew that I had hurt him, and was…concerned.”

The werewolf seemed completely oblivious to the conversation, content to gently stroke the feathered head. “When I was younger, I always wanted to touch a bird. When my father took me hunting as a wolf for the first time, we came upon a whole flock of crows. I stupidly chased them and Father only laughed.”

“Murder, actually,” Athos mumbled, absently.

Porthos apparently was the only one to actually hear him. “Murder?”

“It’s not a flock. Crows have murders.” Athos shrugged. “Being raised in a family where most of them have wings, you end up learning more about birds than really necessary… “

D’Artagnan laughed, turning back to face his new lover. Once again, Athos felt his heart melt at the sight of the smiling man and silently swore to do whatever it took to keep that smile there.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Sorry this chapter took so long. I'm really struggling with life stuff. Treville won't be revealing his secret in this chapter as it was running a bit too long. For those of you who watch my PI account, this is the chapter with the movie reference.  
> Fun Fact: This is now the longest fic I have posted on AO3 and I fear that before the end, it will be the longest fic I've written.

“Stop scowling and let the boy have his fun.”

Athos turned his glare onto Aramis. “It’s only been three nights since the new moon!”

Sighing, Aramis managed to not roll his eyes. “It’s only a problem if the change is forced. D’Artagnan is not forcing it. It’s just like all the other times he’s been a wolf around us.”

They both turned to watch the grey and white wolf chase after a rabbit. Their night had been peaceful, spent in Aramis’ home; Porthos staying with Aramis and Athos with d’Artagnan. The four had gotten up with the sun, heading to the garrison, where their captain had met them with a cart of supplies.

_“Captain…”_

_Treville smiled at the four. “The safe house you are going to has not been used in almost a year. I expect that repairs will be needed as well as restocking of supplies.”_

_“I knew it was too good to be true,” Aramis mumbled._

Porthos rode up to where the pair sat at the front of the cart. “Seeing as how Fury has more energy than he knows what ta do wit’, I’m gonna take him ta scout ahead.”

“Are you expecting trouble?” Athos asked.

Aramis scoffed. “Trouble? Us? Never!”

Porthos chuckled, kicking Guerre into a canter. “Fury! Let’s go check ahead!”

The wolf stopped trying to dig out the hole the rabbit had escaped into and lifted his head. With a bark of excitement, he ran to catch up with the horse and rider. Aramis shook his head smiling.

“I know he’s a young man, but sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever grow out of being a puppy.”

Athos silently agreed as he watched the pair move out of sight. “Honestly, I hope he never does.”

Aramis hummed softly. “I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For doing what I could not.” Aramis dropped his eyes to his hands, fidgeting. “I do love him, but… there’s just something that keeps me from giving him my heart.”

“Perhaps it is something to do with your former brotherhood?”

“Of course you would be the one to know about that connection.” The medic forced a smile. “I don’t even know what really happened. All I could find in the archives was a mention of how Assassins worked with werewolves and then the bond was broken. I know Altaïr wrote about it but the Codex was forbidden to any but the highest ranks.” 

Athos raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought being raised in the Order, and with your skills, you were made a Master.” 

Aramis actually grinned as he lifted his head. Those were close enough to words of praise that he nodded his thanks. Yet, darkness settled on his features after a moment of memory.

”Marsac and I would have been made Masters upon our return from our assignment with the musketeers. Since I never went back…” He shrugged.

“I…am sorry for what happened to you both.” Athos wrapped an arm around Aramis in a rare display of affection.

“Thank you.” Aramis looked down the road, not expecting to see anything but needing the distraction. “Isn’t it funny how our pasts were so intertwined before we even met each other?”

“And centered on our mutual mate.” 

Aramis bit his lip before he replied. “Does this mean we’re mated too?”

He was sure that even Porthos and Fury heard the smack upside his head and his resounding laughter.  
***

“Are you serious?”

Fury barked at him, tail wagging. Sighing in amusement, Porthos picked up the stick the wolf had dropped in front of him. They had a few minutes, waiting for the others to catch up so why not burn off some more of that energy? Maybe d’Artagnan would actually sleep then.

He flung the stick as hard as he could, Fury launching himself after it. His laughter was cut short by the crack of gunfire and the yelp of pain from the wolf. Porthos charged over to his friend, dropping next to him, heedless of the danger.

The ball had buried itself in Fury’s hind leg, staining the fur around the puncture red. Before he could even try to start tending the wound, Porthos was forced to raise his hand as the barrel of a pistol touched the back of his head. His weapons were quickly removed.

“Stand up, nice and slow.”

“I’ll do anything ya want, but let me take care o’ the wolf.”

The man behind him snorted. “I have a gun to your head and you still worry about your pet? Fine, you can carry him.”

Gratefully, Porthos gathered up Fury, mildly surprised at how heavy he was. He carefully slipped the animal over his shoulders, glad he had left his horse by the road. Hopefully, Athos and Aramis would see him and figure out what happened. At the soft whimper from his shoulders, Porthos hoped that would happen sooner rather than later.  
***

He sat with his back against the hard packed dirt wall of the cellar, petting the wolf in his lap. Porthos strained his ears far any indication that help had arrived but to no avail. He sighed, once again glancing at the bloodied bandage on the wolf’s leg. They had allowed him to tend to the wound though the ball was still embedded in the flesh.

“Too bad yer not human…I could just take a bit of blood and break us out.”

Fury huffed as his body started to shift. Porthos glanced at the door, worried at what their captors might do if they found out there was a day walker and a werewolf in their cellar. He sighed again, this time in relief, finding a human curling closer to him. He shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around the boy.

“Y…You actually believe that old…wives tale?”

“What wives tale? Every vampire knows that wolf blood is poisonous.”

D’Artagnan chuckled softly. “Actually…it makes vampires even stronger…”

“Nooo…I’m pretty sure I know this one.”

“You…you know the story we…t… told you.” Despite the pain, d’Artagnan smiled at Porthos. “A…An entire generation of…wolves… were raised on…garlic and…and holy water…”

“Yer joking…”

D’Artagnan shook his head. “N…No. Vampires…they hunted us…nearly to extinction…. We…we had to do something…”

Porthos brushed a sweaty lock of hair from his friends face. “So yer people poisoned themselves against vampires.”

“The Moons Children…” The words were spoken in a breathy whisper, full of reverence and respect. “Thirty one…wolves were killed before the…the vampires stopped hunting us…we spread the… story of a gypsy curse…as…as a joke among other...stories.”

Porthos laughed softly, shaking his head. “Alright, I can drink yer blood. That doesn’t help me as you barely have enough for yourself.”

“I…I can handle it…if you…don’t take too much…” D’Artagnan lifted his head to look up at the vampire. “I trust you.”

Porthos felt an honest smile of affection creeping onto lips. “I see how you charmed your two mates…” 

He felt the body in his arm stiffen as d’Artagnan’s eyes filled with fear. “I…I’m sorry about…Aramis…”

“It’s fine, pup.” He carefully pulled the boy closer to him. “Aramis told me what happened and how guilty he felt when he learned what happened. I’m honestly glad you were there for him that night.”

“I…I know…he…he loves you…” d’Artagnan whispered. “That’s…why you…need to drink…from me…”

“It’s a little more complex than that, pup…” Porthos mumbled as he turned his head, a light blush coloring his cheeks. “There’s a reason I only feed on people I love and trust…”

The werewolf cocked his head, blood loss making him a bit slower on the up-take. His eyes widened as it finally dawned on him what Porthos meant. The vampire was sure that d’Artagnan would have blushed if he had the blood to do so.

“Oh.” Again, he looked up at Porthos. “I…I wouldn’t mind…”

“Gee thanks.” Porthos leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the younger’s forehead. 

“You…you know…I didn’t mean it like that…”

Porthos smiled as he leaned in for another kiss, this time capturing d’Artagnan’s lips instead. “I know…”

D’Artagnan weakly responded, reaching up to cup Porthos’ cheek when the larger man moved to pull away. “I…I know they’ll understand…this once…”

“Not if I kill you.”

D’Artagnan snorted. “I may be… a…a runt, but I …am still a werewolf…I’ll live…”

Porthos glanced down at the blood soaked bandage. If he was going to do anything, it had to be now, while d’Artagnan had enough blood for both of them. He ran his fingers through the long strands of silk the boy called hair. He needed to get them out of here, now.

“Alright…I’m sorry for this…”

“I…I’m not…”

Porthos smiled as his eyes flooded with inky blackness. “I hope you can still say that after we get out of this mess…”  
***

He only meant to kick the wooden door open. He really didn’t mean to completely obliterate it as it smashed against the opposite wall. He blinked as he looked down at his hands. D’Artagnan might have understated the power of wolf blood.

He glanced back into the cell, seeing a weakly smiling d’Artagnan. Porthos scowled as he realized his pup was being smug about this whole thing. He grudgingly had to admit the wolf had the right too.

“Stay here. I’ll take care of the guards and come back for you.”

“I…I’m not going…anywhere.”

“You better not be.” Porthos swallowed the fear that threatened to drown him as he watched the werewolf barely manage to wave. “I’ll be right back.”

Turning, he started up the stairs. There were seven men and one woman holding them, though he had a feeling that the woman wanted to be there as much as Porthos did. Closing his eyes, he did something he rarely ever did: let his darker side completely take over. To get d’Artagnan out of this mess, he would happily slaughter anyone who got in his way.

He heard the heartbeat of the man coming down the stairs, heard the moment he caught sight of the man they were holding prisoner free. Porthos grinned, showing his elongated fangs and opened his pitch black eyes. Relishing the sound of the quickened heartbeat, he lunged at the man, a red haze settling in his vision. The blood that covered his arms warmed him as the metallic scent filled his nose, causing his mouth to water.

“Porthos! Stop! It’s me! It’s Aramis!”

His vision cleared, the red mist evaporating as suddenly as it had appeared. A familiar coat was bunched in his fist and wide, terror filled eye stared at him. He abruptly let go, stepping back and regaining his control.

“Aramis! I…I’m sorry! I…”

“It’s alright, Love.” Aramis put on a shaky grin and looked around, straightening his coat. “Well, it looks as if you took care of three of them. How many more were there?’

“Um…four. And a woman.” 

“Hm. Alright. Then everyone is accounted for.” 

Porthos’ now brown eyes stared at his lover. “Wait- you took out four fully armed men and I didn’t hear a thing?”

Aramis gave the vampire a droll stare, holding up his arm and triggering his hidden blade in the gauntlet. “Porthos, please. I may not be an active member, but I was still raised as an Assassin.” He shrugged. “Besides it looks like you were a bit busy.”

“The woman?”

“I found her locked in a bedroom, cowering in a corner. She told me where you were and then fled.” He looked behind Porthos. “Where is our young werewolf anyways?”

The blood drained from Porthos’ face as he fled back into the cellar. “D’Artagnan!”

His heart sank when no reply came. He stumbled to a halt in the doorway, his legs giving out beneath him. Behind him, Aramis let out a soft cry of distress.

Sprawled in the middle of the room, as if he were trying to come to aid Porthos, lay a lifeless d’Artagnan.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Stuff happened, so you get two chapters.

“He’s not dead, Porthos.”

The vampire’s head snapped up. “Wha- How could ya possibly know that?”

“Because I’m not dead.” Aramis gently pushed Porthos to the side and went to d’Artagnan’s side. He carefully rolled the boy over to start assessing the wounds. He scowled at the twin punctures on the werewolf’s neck.

“You fed from him?”

Porthos blinked. “I…I had ta… I didn’t think ya’d get here in time.”

Aramis smirked. “So it is true…”

“Ya knew? I mean ‘bout tha werewolf blood?”

“That it strengthens vampires?” Aramis moved down to the leg. “Yes. We’re taught that as a young age, one of the very few things they actually taught us about werewolves.”

Scowling, Porthos moved over to join Aramis. He had so many questions, he didn’t know what to ask first. 

“Where’s Athos?”

“He’s taking the cart and supplies to the house. It’s not far from here. He’ll meet us here.” Aramis nodded once and looked up at Porthos. “Help me get him upstairs. There’s a bed up there and it’ll be easier to care for him.”

Porthos easily picked up the young werewolf. “What did you mean by you not being dead?”

Aramis followed him up the stairs and chuckled softly. “We…we talked for a bit while you and Athos talked in the kitchen. He told me that it was an accident and that he was sorry. When I asked him why, he told me that if he died, I would follow him in death soon thereafter. It’s apparently a mate thing.”

“Oh.” Porthos gently lay d’Artagnan on the small bed and backed away. 

“Get back over here. I need you to make sure he doesn’t move.” The medic bit his lip as he unrolled his bundle of tools. “I need to get that ball out. It must have some silver in it since it hasn’t healed up any.”

“Silver? You mean that part is true?” The large vampire moved into position to hold down the werewolf with his body if need be.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Aramis found a bottle of wine and used it to clean the wound. Porthos watched as his two brothers flinched in unison before feeling a twinge of pain in his own leg. It only worsened as Aramis dug into flesh, pulling out a small silver ball.

Porthos let out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “That thing is pure silver…”

Aramis nodded, dropping the ball into a small bowl. “I’m afraid that we were dealing with a group of hunters. They probably kept you alive not realizing what you are and trying to figure out what to do with you.”

There was a rustle at the door which opened to admit Athos. His wings were fully extended and a sheet of sweat covered him. His wide eyes took in the sight of his three brothers.

“D’Artagnan…”

“Will be fine in a few hours and back to normal by tomorrow.” Aramis smirked a bit. “Especially with all three of his mates here.”

“Three…?” Athos stared at their resident vampire. “Porthos…?”

The man looked away but not before the other two caught his blush. “I…might have taken a bit o’ his blood…and…you know…it makes me…”

Athos held up his hand shaking his head as he entered the room to sit on the bed. “With as much trouble as he gets into, d’Artagnan probably needs three mates.”

“Not…trouble…”

The three uninjured men turned their focus on their youngest. Even though it hadn’t been that long since Aramis removed the ball, Porthos could see the color returning to d’Artagnan’s cheeks. Smiling, he took the werewolf’s hand in his own.

“Hey pup…”

“Still not…sorry…” D’Artagnan gave him a weak smile in return before moving his head so he could stare at the black wings of his second mate. “You…flew?”

“Yes. I wanted to join you three as soon as possible and this was the quickest way.” Athos glanced at the other two. “I also saw that we may be getting company soon.”

“How many?” Aramis asked as he stowed his tools.

“At least five.”

Aramis nodded. “Then you three need to get out of here. Porthos can carry d’Artagnan-do not even start with me, pup- and you can make sure they get to the house safely.”

“And what about you?”

Aramis grinned as he flashed his hidden blade. “I’m going to use my training for the second time today. Altaïr would be so proud.”  
***

Aramis slipped silently into the small safe house, still in his Assassin mindset. It wasn’t until he was thrown up against a wall by his throat that he realized he was even doing it. A smile made its way to his lips as he also realized that Porthos looked as startled as he felt. The vampire quickly set Aramis on his feet and backed away.

“I…I’m sorry! I didn’t…”

“It’s fine, Porthos. I suppose I deserve it for sneaking in here like that.” He turned to grin at Athos who sat at the small table in the kitchen. “Thank you for leaving me with Shadow. He saved me more than once.”

The man smiled. “What can I say? He seems to like you.”

“He’s also very patient. He led me back here when I wasn’t…” Aramis shrugged not really knowing how to phrase it. There were times when his training seemed to take over and he wasn’t in control of his body. It was times like this that scared him, made him glad he left the order when he had the chance.

“Ya hungry?” Porthos asked with as he held up a spoon filled with a thick stew.

Aramis blanched. “Maybe later. Where’s the puppy?”

“In the bedroom. He passed out as soon as we got here.” Athos glanced over his shoulder at the room at the back of the house, his expression concerned. “He’s exhausted.”

“Well, he just had a lump of silver taken out of his leg…” Aramis replied as he made his way to the door. “Some of that stew might go a long way in helping that exhaustion.”

Porthos grinned, spooning a helping into a bowl. He passed it to Aramis who took it into the bedroom. D’Artagnan was curled on his side, snuffling softly. The assassin set the bowl on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. With a gentleness that was in odds with his actions less than an hour before, he gathered the younger man in his arms. The werewolf barely responded.

Aramis gently ran his fingers through d’Artagnan’s hair. “What have we done?”  
***

Athos glanced back at the wolf curled up in the back of the now empty cart. With Aramis and Porthos, the three of them had finished the repairs while d’Artagnan tried to keep them in food. The week had passed quietly, but for the fact that the resident werewolf was appearing even more exhausted with each passing day.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Athos let his gaze return to the man by his side. “Why did you and Porthos feel d’Artagnan’s wound? I felt nothing…and he told me that we wouldn’t feel anything because we are not werewolves.”

Aramis sighed. “I believe that it was because we were sitting right next to him. You were still …um…flying in.”

“Ah. I suppose that makes sense.” He glanced back at the wolf again. “Is this why he’s been sleeping so much?”

“Actually, I think that might be our fault.” Aramis sighed. “D’Artagnan is still very young and he was born a runt. He was forced into an Alpha position long before any werewolf should...and I forced him into a mating.”

“You didn’t.” Athos scowled. “He wanted-“

“To make me happy, I know. But there were much easier ways of doing that.” Aramis stared down at the reigns. “Athos…he’s too young to have one bond let alone three, especially since those bonds only go one way.”

“So what can we do?” The two men looked up as Porthos joined them.

“I…I honestly have no idea.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: And the second chapter. Finally find out what Treville is. Sorry for the wait.

They rode back to the garrison after dropping off the cart. D’Artagnan dozed against Athos’ back as they made their way under the arch. The three men reined in their steeds staring in confusion at the gathering in the courtyard. Treville stood on the stairs addressing the group.

“Oy! What’s goin’ on?” Porthos asked the nearest musketeer.

“There’s to be a tournament between us and the Red Guards- some argument between the Captain and the Cardinal.”

“Hmm…sounds fun. There a prize?” 

The musketeer chuckled. “Yes, in a way. There’s an entry fee of 40 livre but it goes to make a prize purse.”

“But…it’s only for musketeers, isn’t it?”

Athos turned slightly in the saddle to see the disappointment in their youngest. “I’m certain that if you spoke with Treville, he would let you enter.”

“But I don’t even have the money for the entry fee.”

“Well, technically, none of us do…” Aramis said as he dismounted. “But for now, go talk to the captain.”

D’Artagnan nodded as he slipped from the back of Chevalier. Without another word, he made his way up the stairs to the office. Porthos and Athos also slid from their mounts and the three of them led the horses to the stables. 

“So how are we gonna get the money?” Porthos asked, leading Guerre into his stall.

“We’ll figure something out…” Aramis replied. “We always do.”  
***

Porthos watched as d’Artagnan sparred with Athos, the musketeer offering pointers. It was hard to watch the boy push himself so hard, fighting the exhaustion that caused his body to tremble. They all knew this would be the best chance for d’Artagnan to earn his pauldron, but none of them could ignore how quickly the pup tired. Even now, Aramis appeared to be debating with himself on suggesting the boy take a break. The last time he had done that, d’Artagnan nearly ripped his head off. Literally.

“Oy- Looks like tha Captain’s picked the champion.”

The man watched as the older musketeer made his way down the stairs. He felt the other three cluster up beside him. A large bowl was being passed around and small pouches of money were being placed in it. Both Porthos and Aramis sheepishly dropped their own pouches to join with the others.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Aramis said as pink colored his cheeks.

“Deal.”

Athos shook his head as he too dropped a pouch of coins. “I do hope it was no one important…”

Porthos snorted. “Not anyone likely ta be missed.”

All three raised at least one eyebrow as d’Artagnan dropped his fee into the bowl. “What? The captain said I could join in if I found the money.”

“And how did you do that?” Aramis asked, his voice wavering just enough that Porthos knew the marksman was uncertain if he wanted to know the answer.

“Especially without me knowing,” Athos added. The two of them had moved into the small house just a few days ago.

D’Artagnan bared his teeth in a way that even Porthos knew wasn’t a smile. “You know what I am and what I am capable of. I merely brought the local butcher a deer…or two.”

“Please at least tell me they weren’t the kings…”

At that, the werewolf actually did grin. “No. I was outside his grounds. I promise.”

Porthos chuckled softly, turning his attention to were Treville stood looking over his men. Minutes later, that chuckle turned to a furious growl. He enviously watched as Athos stormed up the stairs to confront their leader about his choice.

“It’s alright d’Artagnan.” The vampire turned his head at the sound of his lover’s voice. “There will be other chances.”

Porthos sighed joining the pair as they waited for the return of their leader.  
***

The three of them stood at attention with the rest of their brothers. D’Artagnan joined them as he tried to stifle a yawn, something that none of them missed. Aramis gently squeezed the younger man’s shoulder and forced a smile.

“I wasn’t sure you would come.”

D’Artagnan shrugged. “I may not be a musketeer, but I will support those who have shown me kindness.”

Aramis grinned while Porthos chuckled and even Athos might have cracked a smile. The fledgling werewolf did indeed have the heart of a musketeer. There was no doubt that d’Artagnan would soon earn his pauldron, even if it would not be this day.

A pompous man came out to announce the two champions. Though there was only polite applause for their captain, Aramis knew that Treville was the favorite even without knowing who the champion would be for the Red Guard. Still, the wave of tension that hit him as the man, Labarge, was introduced was a bit of a surprise, although not nearly as surprising as the growling from the man next to him.

“D’Artagnan?” Athos questioned softly.

“That…the Red Guard is a werewolf…a real alpha.” D’Artagnan’s eyes narrowed, filling with tears. “He…he’s…”

They were distracted by the striking of metal on metal as the pair of combatants met. At first it seemed that they were evenly match, but it quickly became evident that the large werewolf had merely been playing with his prey. Treville’s pained cry had d’Artagnan lunging forward, his lovers and musketeer brothers following. 

After a brief fight between the two regiments, the king declared that Treville could name a new champion. D’Artagnan felt his heart soar when the musketeer captain caught his eye and called his name. Raising his rapier in a salute, the young soldier took his position.

Aramis crouched down by his captain to tend to his wounds, trying to ignore the clanging of steel and the soft cries of pain. Treville batted the medic’s hands away in irritation. Aramis was about to ask Athos and Porthos to assist him when the older man turned to glare at him.

“If you want d’Artagnan to win, the three of you have to complete your bonds with him! Otherwise, that alpha will kill him!”

Three sets of eyes widened in shock. “H…how di-“

“Never mind that!” Treville growled. “You need to focus on your mate!”

Blinking, Aramis stood so he was shoulder to shoulder with his brothers. All three wore matching expressions of confusion which quickly changed to fear as Labarge sliced a line into their mate’s side. Each of them felt a slight twinge of pain, causing the fear to turn to anger.

“How do we do this?” Athos asked, focused on the battle.

“Close your eyes and find that thread that ties you to d’Artagnan…” Treville answered. 

Aramis closed his eyes, took a deep breath and just let himself feel. He felt the panic starting to fill his chest as he felt d’Artagnan faltering with fatigue. He shoved it down and threw himself into a quick and dirty soul searching. 

It felt like he physically slammed into a wall when he found the bonding thread. In his mind’s eye, it was a red thread that led to some sort of clear barrier. On the other side was…something. It was warm and full of life and motion. It took Aramis a few seconds to realize that the warmth was slowly fading and the movement was slowing.

“No!”

He wasn’t sure if he called out on the physical plane, but it didn’t matter. He felt the barrier shudder and Aramis suddenly knew what he had to do. He gathered all of his feeling for d’Artagnan- his love, brotherhood, friendship- and forged them into a weapon, one he used against the barrier separating him from d’Artagnan.

There was a brief flash of black intertwined with red before his eyes snapped open.  
***

D’Artagnan could feel his body rebelling against him. It was desperately trying to shut down on him but his heart wouldn’t allow it to do so. He couldn’t fail his musketeer brothers, the men who gave him all the things he never knew he was missing until he found his place with them. To die now would mean betraying that trust. 

“What’s wrong, little puppy? No more parents to hide behind?” Labarge laughed, stepping back to taunt the other werewolf. “You know, I would’ve been the one in charge of your training…”

“I know…” d’Artagnan growled back, trying desperately to catch his breath. Yet when he stumbled backwards, it was not from exhaustion. It was as if life itself was flowing back into his battered body. His chest was enveloped in a warmth he had not felt since before his parents were taken from him. Strength returned to his muscles, air to his lungs.

Labarge seemed to sense the change and took another step backwards. It did him little good as he was suddenly faced with a barrage of strikes and lunges. His eyes widened in shock as a blade found it’s home, buried deep in his body.

“For my family,” d’Artagnan hissed as the body slid from his sword.  
***

While Aramis took care of d’Artagnan in the infirmary, Athos decided to pay their captain a visit in his office. He was going to get answers now. Treville knew too much to not have his own secret. He politely knocked on the door before entering.

“Ah, Athos. Come in. Has Aramis manage to part d’Artagnan from his pauldron?”

“I…I am not sure.” Athos blinked in surprise as his captain moved easily about the room. 

Treville smiled as he noticed his leftenant’s expression. “I suppose you deserve an explanation.” He gestured to a chair next to his desk, taking a seat as well after grabbing a bottle of bourbon and a pair of glasses.

“Shortly after my eleventh birthday, I received a letter in a peculiar way- it was tied to the leg of an owl.” He handed a filled glass to Athos, leaning back to enjoy his own. “I was to attend a special school, one that taught magic and lore. I spent seven years there and another three at a more advanced school. I became what is known as an Auror- a dark wizard hunter. I protected non-magical people, Muggles, from magic. Eventually, I was promoted to protecting the royal line.”

Athos sat there, his untouched drink in his hand. “My…my mother once told me that magic was real and that there were people who could use it.”

“Yes, your mother was the direct descendant from your angel ancestor, yes?”

Just when he thought nothing could surprise him. Athos chuckled as he looked up at his smirking captain. Things fell into place the more he thought about it.

“You know…I mean about all of us.”

“If you mean that my four best musketeers consist of a daywalking vampire, an ex-assassin, a half angel and now a werewolf? Yes. I try to protect those that I can. The wizarding world would want at least two of your brothers dead.”

“Is this how you knew about what d’Artagnan needed?” Athos asked, finally taking a sip of his drink.

Treville nodded. “After I met his father, I threw myself into studying them, knowing that I might one day have to protect them. That led to a much broader subject. Although I do admit to not knowing much about the Brotherhood of Assassins.”

Athos nodded. “You know I cannot keep this from the others.”

“Of course. However, I must ask that you keep it among the four of you.”

This time, it was Athos smirking as he responded. “Like anyone else would believe me…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up- I'm on a posting hiatus until August. Still writing when I can but between classes and work, I really don't have the energy to continue. If you can't wait until then,shoot me an e-mail (it's on my profile) or PM me through one of my Tumblr accounts and I'll give you an synopsis of what I have planned for the last two chapters.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: So, I have literally spent more time at work or in a vehicle then I have spent at home this last month. Sleep has taken over as a priority as I have not seen my bed nearly as much as I wish. (Seriously, I have a 72 hour work week with a straight six days of 12 hour shifts plus one 8 hour shift.) But I did slap this together so I could post it. It's an extremely rough draft and I'll try to find any mistakes when I get home from work.
> 
> There will be an epilogue at some point, but I honestly have no idea when.

A year passed filled with missions, peril and violence. Yet, love was always present through the blood and tears. Aramis learned the pleasures of living with a vampire and Athos…well, he learned to hold an overly excited wolf while he flew. Porthos helped with that by creating a harness for Fury to wear that allowed Athos to hang on to him despite the squirming. The four had truly become one.

Now, they stood at the base of a fortress wall, the darkness of night surrounding them. Aramis scowled at the stones, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him, d’Artagnan was trying his best to stifle his laughter. He wasn’t quite succeeding, which in turn was affecting Porthos who was trying to be supportive of his lover. He too, was failing in his endeavor.

“I just don’t see why I have to always be the one to climb the walls. You have wings!” Aramis pointed at their commanding officer. 

“Yes, but that might attract unwanted attention,” Athos countered. “You are the best choice for stealth.”

The Assassin sighed and took off his hat, handing it to a straight-faced Porthos with a soft huff of annoyance. Within a matter of a few minutes, he had scaled the wall and slipped in through a window, silently taking out the guard there. The three remaining musketeers moved to the door situated at the base of one of the three watch towers, keeping an eye out for other guards.

Aramis opened the door, his expression darker than before. “This place is crawling with soldiers.”

“That isn’t unusual for a fortress.” Athos stepped across the threshold, quickly assessing the area. Porthos followed and finally d’Artagnan. The latter stripped off his clothes, stuffing them into a satchel before shifting into his wolf form.

“Especially one that’s supposed ta be holding some French noble,” Porthos added as he slung the bag with d’Artagnan’s clothes over his shoulder.

Aramis shrugged. “I know. I just have a bad feeling about this mission.”

 _So do I. Something feels off about it._ D’Artagnan’s voice flittered through their minds. It had been an awkward few days after the bond had been completed between each of the three and their werewolf mate, especially with d’Artagnan weak from both his injuries at the hands of Labarge and the exhaustion of carrying the three incomplete bonds. Stray thoughts had caused more than a few awkward moments until the werewolf learned to control the bond.

Athos turned to face them. “Then let us be extra careful. We are here simply to see if there really is a hostage situation. We get the information and get out as quickly as possible.”

The other three nodded and followed Athos out of the room where they split up. Porthos and Athos took the second floor while Aramis and Fury took the ground floor. The plan was for them to search as much as they could for a quarter of an hour and then meet back up at their entry point to report their findings. In and out. Simple.

But, as Aramis was so fond of pointing out, nothing the four of them ever did was simple.  
***

_I swear the streets of Paris in mid-summer smells better than this place!_

Aramis chuckled at the voice in his head. He actually did feel a bit sorry for the wolf as he could smell what d’Artagnan was complaining about and could only imagine how bad it was for heightened senses. He paused to kneel and ruffle the soft fur. So far, they had found no evidence to support the claim of a French noble being held.

“I know the stench is terrible. We’ll search for a few more minutes and then we’ll meet back up with the others.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen…”

Aramis twisted, coming to his feet in one graceful movement, ejecting his hidden blade. The man who had managed to somehow sneak up on them was faster. Grabbing Aramis’ wrist, he wrenched the wrist, forcing the musketeer to his knees.

“Hmm. Haven’t seen one o’ ya recently. Ya must be either new or horrible out o’ practice.” D’Artagnan snarled at the man, crouching to pounce, but winced as Aramis tried to stifle a cry of pain. “A mated wolf and Assassin, huh? Oh, this will be fun!”

They were suddenly surrounded by men with swords and pistols. The leader sent a pair of men to go look for Athos and Porthos, his movement revealing a red cross on a white tunic. Despite the lack of his devotion to the brotherhood he once had, Aramis’ face twisted into an expression of hatred.

“Templar!”

The man grinned. “Amusingly enough, it wasn’t you we were after. We were just hired to take care of the werewolf, since our order has had dealings with them, though it’s been a good hundred years since a Templar had the pleasure of killing a wolf and its handler.”

“I’m not his handler!” Aramis spat, angered at the assumption that he held any dominion over his friend. 

“No, I suppose you’re not.” The man’s grin slid into a smirk. “Considering the Assassins cut their ties with werewolves because of an illness in a single wolf.”

“What..?” 

Snorting in amusement, their captor replied. “So your order refuses to acknowledge what happened, hmm? The Templar know this story well- it’s told to our young at a bedtime story to teach them the arrogance of the Assassins. A single wolf contracted the foaming mouth disease and turned on her handler who also happened to be her lover and one of the Masters. After she was put down, it was decreed that Assassins would never partner with wolves again.”

Aramis looked at d’Artagnan who responded in his head. _I did not know of this, I swear Aramis!_

The man nodded and returned his attention to the man. “So there was never a noble here, was there?”

“No. It was a trap to lure your wolf here. It’s just a bonus that you’re here. It’s too bad about your friends though.” He gestured for them to be taken away.  
***

“Stop it! Stop hurting him!”

The torturer smirked at d’Artagnan, and the young man responded with a growl. His body was covered in painful open wounds and burnt flesh but his mate felt every one of them as well. D’Artagnan swallowed, trying to suppress his panic knowing that both Athos and Porthos would be feeling the wound and fear as well. The only saving grace here was that both of them were still lose in the fortress. 

“So you want me to stop hurting your mate, hmm? Is that how much you care for him?”

D’Artagnan lifted his chin defiantly. “Yes. I care for all my brothers, something you probably know nothing about.”

That earned him a backhand across his face, a motion he had hoped for. For the last three quarters of an hour, he had watched the man, this Templar agent, torture Aramis through him. The pain unearthed a new well of fury and rage and he used it to keep his mind clear. It was only because of that, he was able to see a way to get his brothers free. In his hand, he now held the only option left to him- a simple dagger made of pure silver, taken from the man’s boot. In his heart, he held the secret that would set them all free.  
***

Athos stumbled at the same time as Porthos. He looked at his brother, clutching his chest as pain ripped through his heart. It felt like someone had severed part of his body from him.

“You felt it too?” Porthos’ eyes were wide with pain and fear. 

Athos nodded, trying but failing to tramp down the fear. “D’Artagnan.”

Together, they followed the scream of agony to an unlocked room under the fortress. The dread in his heart grew heavier as Athos approached the door. He knew before he opened the door what he would find.

Aramis knelt on the floor, his body curled around a blood drenched human d’Artagnan. Tears flowing freely down his cheeks accompanied the soft cries of despair. A key on the floor had been tossed to Aramis before the Templar fled, and he had used it to free both of them before pulling the werewolf into his lap.

As the two men knelt, Aramis lifted his reddened eyes. “We’ll not die with him…he severed the bond with a silver knife to his heart. It’s…it’s the only way for a wolf to…to save their mates…”

Athos gently lifted a limp hand to his lips. Tears he thought had dried up long ago flooded his eyes. His heart was shattered and it took so much effort to draw breath. His world was now gone.

“I’m not sure he saved us from anything…”


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Musketeers  
> Warnings: Read them  
> Follow Me (My Personal Blog): [Tumblr](http://sabishiioni.tumblr.com/)  
> Follow PI (My Writing Blog): [Tumblr](http://projectinsanitywriting.tumblr.com/)  
> Mindless Babble: Sixty four pages, 26,230 words, and almost nine months to the day later this crackfic of mine comes to it's conclusion. This was never meant to be this long, never even meant to see the light of day on AO3. I'm glad that Sigmund talked me into posting it as I have been completely blown away by your kindness. This has topped all my statics with the exception of bookmarks. (I do not, despite what rumors would say, sit and giggle looking at my stats.) If you are reading this, thank you for you patience and understanding and for sticking with me this long. (In the month of August, I only had a total of four days off as I am temporarily working two jobs.) I truly hope you enjoy this final chapter.

“She still not eatin’?”

Athos looked up at the sound of the deep voice. Shaking his head, he pocketed the apple he had been trying to entice Tempest to consume. The horse stopped eating a few days before and it was starting to show. Two weeks since they had lost d’Artagnan and now they were losing the only thing they had left of him.

Porthos joined him, gently stroking the horse’s neck. “Treville says Aramis should be back today.”

“Perhaps we will find where he has been,” Athos replied, giving his lover’s horse a few pats on the back before moving to leave the stables.

“Not sure I wanna know.” The larger man fell into step with his brother.

Athos inclined his head in agreement. They had not seen their missing brother since the night of the funeral. The three of them had built a pyre for their fallen werewolf, a practice that packs used to honor their dead. Aramis had explained that it was the belief of werewolves that they were hellhounds given a respite from their duties to walk the Earth. When their life was over, fire would return them to their station in Hell. 

When the pyre was nothing more than embers, Aramis had silently turned and walked away.

They stepped into the rain, intending on waiting in the commons room when they heard the horse entering the courtyard. Despite everything that had happened, the sight of Fidget and his rider coming to a halt in front of them filled them with joy. Athos reached out for the reins while Porthos reached for his lover.

And ended up with a soaked bundle of whining fur.

“Aramis?” Porthos looked down at the tiny wolf, his heart sinking. Even wet, it was plain that it had similar markings to Fury. Aramis slid from his mount’s back.

“His mother and littermates were all dead. The she-wolf had been shot and the pups starved. I…” Aramis looked down at the gauntlet that housed his hidden blade. “I couldn’t leave him there.”

Porthos let a small smile appear on his lips as he pulled the man into a one armed hug. “It’s fine, Love. Maybe tha pup might bring some cheer back ta tha garrison.”

Athos nodded, hoping for the same thing. Laughter had all but vanished after d’Artagnan’s death. The musketeers felt the loss of their brother keenly and still had yet to recover from the seemingly senseless death.

Athos handed Fidget off to the stable boy. “Come, let’s get you dried off before you report to Treville.”

Aramis shook his head. “I don’t need to report to him. He saw me return and that is enough for him to know my mission was successful.”

“Can you tell us what that mission was?” Athos asked as they entered the empty commons room. He stepped over to bank the fire as Aramis stripped out of his wet clothes.

“Those who took d’Artagnan away from us are no longer breathing the same air. In fact, they are no longer breathing.” Aramis hung his clothes near the fire to dry them as Porthos retrieved a blanket for him and a towel for the pup.

“Did Treville tell you where they were?”

“No.” The assassin sat down in a chair and pulled the blanket tighter around him. “I…I reconnected with the Brotherhood.” He lifted his head, a cheerless smile speaking volumes about the storm raging inside him. “I’ve been made a Master, but with the understanding that I will find them and not the other way around.”

Athos silently nodded as he poured his friend and brother a glass of wine. “I would offer my congratulations but I fear it would not be welcomed.”

Aramis chuckled. “It’s fine, Athos. I’m just so tired now. I feel like my soul has been stripped bare and my heart torn asunder.”

“Welcome ta tha club,” Porthos replied as he dried off the wolf cub. “Does he have a name?”

Aramis lowered his eyes. “Fury.”

“It’s a good name. I hope he can grow into it.” Athos knelt, his heart breaking as the tiny pup ran straight for him.

***  
Laughter and cheer did slowly return to the garrison. It took months and an extremely playful wolf, but it did come back in as much as it could. War with Spain was looming like a shadow over France and every one of her citizens could feel it like a tangible thing.

The three Inseparables were riding back from reconnaissance trip, Fury bounding alongside the horses. It had been a tiring mission, plagued by injuries and misfortune. Porthos rode with one arm in a sling- his shoulder dislocated from an escape gone badly. Aramis was trying to learn to breathe without jarring his broken ribs. Athos, the most hale of all of them, only carried a healing musket ball graze to his shoulder.

They found a tree shaded spot by a river to stop for a meal and rest. As Porthos helped Aramis from his horse, Athos started gathering wood for a fire, Fury once again at his side. Though it had been Aramis to rescue him, the wolf seemed to prefer the company of the stoic man instead, something Porthos took great delight in pointing out every chance he got.

Athos accidentally dropped a stick and Fury immediately pounced on it. “Fury…” Athos sighed. “Fine, you can have that one but the rest are going to the fire.”

Fury answered by wagging his tail so hard his entire back half wiggled. Athos shook his head, blinking back tears. How many times had d’Artagnan, before his secret had been revealed, done the same thing to cheer up his three friends. It was in moments like these, the young man’s loss was keenly felt.

Porthos had set up a ring of stones and readied the food for cooking. He glanced up as the pair returned and grinned. “Ah, I see Fury’s been helping you.”

Athos huffed. “If by helping you mean being an insufferable hindrance, then yes, he was a great help.”

Aramis laughed then winced, his hand going to his side. “Don’t make me laugh- it hurts too much!”

Fury trotted over to the assassin and dropped to his side. Aramis smiled as he stroked the soft fur, watching the wolf gnaw on the wood. Athos cherished moments like this when things almost seemed normal and the pain of loss was nothing more than a memory.

He slipped off his jacket and let his wings relax. Both Aramis and Porthos grinned, still not over the thrill of seeing them even though it had nearly been two years since first seeing them. Athos knew just the sight of them lifted his companion’s spirits which was close to the only reason he had left to release them. The joy of flying had been lost to a silver dagger.

The three ate and rested, debating on just spending the night there and returning to Paris the next day. The matter was settled as Aramis fell into a light doze, his hand still tangled in the wolf’s thick fur. The man’s lover gently covered him with a blanket before helping Athos bed down the horses for the night.

“I wish we could do somethin’ tonight,” Porthos remarked.

Athos nodded. “I didn’t think we would make it back by today, so I packed a finer bottle of wine. We can at least have a glass in memory.”

The vampire grinned at his leader’s foresight as he removed Fidget’s saddle, but it faded quickly. “Can’t believe it’s been a year.”

“Nor can I.” Athos removed the tack from his own mount. “I…I sometimes wake thinking he’s next to me in bed.”

Porthos firmly clasped the other man’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine what it’s been like fer ya. I’d go insane without Aramis.”

Athos opened his mouth to reply, but a cry of startled fear cut him off. Turning, he understood what had frightened Aramis. Hearing the soft gasp of surprise behind him, he knew Porthos would be in no better shape. 

The woman was as beautiful as Ninon de Larroque, yet her hair was dark instead of fair. Her blue eyes sparkled as a mischievous smile played on her full lips. Her gown, though pure white, was elegant and fit her perfectly. However, it was her most striking feature that caused the fear in the three men. The beautiful white wings which flowed from her back seemed to cast an ethereal glow, surrounding her in soft light.

“Hello Athos.”

“You…”

Her laughter was like water rushing over river rocks. “Yes, I am she who cursed your line with wings.”

“I never thought…” Athos stopped and thought about it. Until he had revealed his secret to his brothers, he had thought of them as a burden. Yet for a single year, they were a gift and then another year of them being simply there. 

The angel softly smiled as she knelt. Fury came to her, his tail tucked between his legs. “You three have taken good care of this little orphan. Much like your last one.”

Aramis scowled. “Fury isn’t a werewolf…”

“And you would know, wouldn’t you, Master Assassin?” There was no malice in her words; only playful teasing. “No, this one is not a Hellhound.”

“May I ask the reason for this visit?” Athos growled, barely keeping his temper in check. 

“You do not like that term for your lover, do you?” The angel stood, playful expression still in place. “I do not blame you. Especially since it’s not true.”

“What?” The three musketeers questioned in unison. 

“Werewolves do not guard the gates of Hell. They guard the gates of Heaven. They are sent to Earth to learn about humanity.”

“D’Artagnan didn’t have the chance to learn much…” Aramis remarked, growing bolder in the face of the angel’s playfulness.

She inclined her head. “That is true, though the three of you taught him the most important aspects- love, kindness, bravery, sacrifice.”

“It’s that last one we ‘ave a problem wit’,” Porthos finally spoke up.

“I understand that.” She looked at them each thoughtfully before speaking again. “Tell me, what would you give to have him back?”

“Anything.” Athos answered for all of them.

She blinked at him. “You would give up your wings knowing how much your wolf loved them?”

“In a heartbeat. I know he loved me before I flew with him.”

The angel nodded and turned her focus on Porthos. “And you, would you give up your great strength, night vision and enhanced hearing for the return of your wolf?”

“Yes, easily. He never liked me bein’ a vampire.”

Her smile faded as her gaze came to rest on Aramis. “And would you give up your bond with the werewolf?”

“The bond is already severed…”

Her expression changed to one of mild annoyance. “Not the bond of love and passion. The one that goes deeper, the one that is engrained in your very being. It is the one that drew you to him and he to you.”

“The one established by Altaïr.”

“And never broken, despite what the descendants would claim.” The seraph’s expression returned to playful understanding. “Would you give that up?”

“Yes. He is my brother above all else.”

“Then his wish shall be granted.”

Athos blinked in shock, unable to process his ancestor’s words, much less form the question he needed to ask. Thankfully, Aramis gladly filled in for him, struggling to his feet while trying not to breath. 

“What do you mean by ‘his wish’?”

“D’Artagnan has been extremely…upset since he returned to us. He would not speak to us but it was obvious he was lonely.” 

She once again stooped in front of Fury. She placed her hands on either side of his head before leaning in to place a gentle kiss on the tip of the black nose. White light enveloped both and the three men were forced to avert their eyes.

_Welcome home, Puppy._

When the three of them could actually see again, the angel was gone. So was Fury. In his place was a shivering and naked young man. Soulful brown eyes finally lifted as a shy smile played on pale lips.

In an instant, Athos dropped to his knees and gathered his lover in his arms. Any fears he had of d’Artagnan not knowing him were quickly dispelled as the younger man clung to him, softly crying. It was only moments later when he felt Aramis and Porthos join them. 

Time passed before they finally separated. Aramis took off his cloak and wrapped it around d’Artagnan, pausing to brush a few stray hairs back.

“Tell me this isn’t a dream; that you are truly returned to us?”

“I am back,” d’Artagnan replied softly as he took Aramis’ hand. “And I am sorry for what the three of you had to sacrifice for me to come back.”

“Quite honestly, I am glad my wings are gone,” Athos said, not loosening his hold on his precious love. “I no longer have to worry about hiding them.”

“An’ I don’t hafta worry ‘bout vamping out every time I see blood,” Porthos added, one hand on his own lover and the other on his youngest brother.

“And I no longer will hurt you by my thoughtless actions,” Aramis said, gently squeeze the hand in his own.

“You never hurt me, Aramis. None of you did.” D’Artagnan grinned as he finally allowed himself to feel the love that surrounded him. It was wonderful to be fully human, for he had to give up something as well. He leaned against Athos, suddenly tired. “Please tell me we are staying here tonight?”

Aramis huffed. “Of course. We might need to stay an extra day just to figure out how to explain your return from the dead.”

D’Artagnan chuckled as the four of them moved closer to the fire. It was only then, that they realized all of their injuries had been healed. Athos shook his head, silently thanking his angelic ancestor.

Porthos started dinner as Aramis finished settling the horses. Athos made sure his lover was resting comfortably, surrounded by cloaks and blankets before helping Aramis. As he picked up his saddle from where it had been dropped he remembered something. Opening the saddlebag, he retrieved the miraculously unbroken bottle of wine and the three cups.

Later that night, the four toasted the return of their brother and offered thanks to the angel. From that point on, the four were one, never to be parted until death took them.

After that, Heaven was never quite the same.


End file.
